Mad Mikey
by Rufus T. Serenity
Summary: Mike has conquered his many personalities. Total Drama Revenge of the Island is done but all of the contestants along with Chris and Chef have been trapped on the island for roughly two weeks now. Mike, Zoey, and the others have no idea that a force more dangerous than they can imagine is about to strike. Come and see a Total Drama apocalyptic horror epic with humor and heart!
1. Current and Future Unsolved Problems

**Author's Notes: Hello Fan-fiction fans! Though I've been a fan of Total Drama for some time, this is my first attempt at writing fan-fiction, after only discovering fan-fiction about a month ago. As a result, I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave me a review telling what you thought I did well and what needs to be approved. **

**Before going into this story, there are two people that I must give sincere thanks to. The first is 's own Strix Moonwing. Her fan-fiction, "Candy for Your Thoughts" was not only the first fan-fiction that I've ever read but also it was such a amazing work that I now have a passion for fan-fiction that never existed before. For that and commutating with me as a friend, I thank her. The second is Akira500 on deviantART. I must thank him for his recent friendship, our great discussions about Total Drama, and his constant and committed assistance with this story. **

**So what do I have to say about this story? Well, I don't want to say too much about it in this opening. I'll do a more basic summary in the author's notes at the bottom. But I will say three things about this story right here and now:**

**1. This story will take place at Camp Wawanakwa after Total Drama Revenge of the Island with all of the 13 contestants, Chris, and Chef being trapped there for a few weeks (why will be stated at the start of the still largely conceptual 2****nd**** chapter). **

**2. While the main focus of this story is going to be Mike, Zoey, and a yet to be named being: many other characters like Dawn, Dakota, and Sam are going to play vital roles and/or have struggles of their own to overcome that are in someway connected to the main conflict. **

**3. Finally, this story is going to be far darker in tone than Total Drama fan-fiction generally is. The reasons for this will be explained more in the lower comments. **

**Also, the characters and locations of Total Drama Revenge of the Island are not mine. I would hope that's already known by anyone who will read this story.**

**So, with all of that being said, let us venture into my first attempt at fan-fiction, the first chapter of "Mad Mikey": Current and Future Unsolved Problems. **

* * *

Heavy pants and footsteps echoed throughout the vast forest, reverberating against the thick trunks of ancient trees.

Their source was a teenage boy named Mike, one of the contestants on one of those terrible reality t.v. shows. But rather than being on the coast of New Jersey or in a kitchen with a rude British man, he was on an island filled with radioactive mutants.

He was better off here on this island.

Until now, of course.

As if trying to prove that point, Mike tripped in his panic and fell into a small puddle.

After getting on his knees, Mike found that terror gripped his legs. Unable to move in apprehension, Mike looked with fear-glazed eyes at his surroundings.

Trees that were water-soaked and dull were seen all over. Moist witnesses to the events unfolding. As he looked closer, Mike was the details of these depressing denizens of the forest. Their barks were coarse and rough, with patches upturned and the signs of decay present. The branches also were gnarled and entangled, some actually piercing the barks of their neighbors in nature.

Moving his mud colored eyes from the trees, Mike looked down to the mud. But there was no mud. At least none that was visible. The floor of the forest was obscured by an ocean of greenish vapor. Covering a carpet of rotten leafs just beneath its murky surface.

With his knees still anchored in the puddle, in the cauldron of olive tinted decay, Mike heard what has caused his alarm.

A tapping. But not just a tapping, a gentle rapping along the barks of the forest's foliage. But unlike the noises from Poe's Raven, the source was not just anything, but something!

Following the unnerving yet rhythmic tapping, there came a noise, a voice. A voice not much more than a whisper. A whisper full of menace and bile.

"_Mike."_

The young man with the mocha skin and brown eyes instantly rose to his feet and franticly looked around to find the whisper's source among the witnesses of wood.

He saw no one.

But that didn't stop another whisper laced with ill will to find him; only this one was somewhat louder than before.

"_Mike. What are you doing Mike?"_

Not wishing to confront their source, Mike fled the whispers. While running, Mike could not help but absorb more features of this forest. Some dim and unidentifiable source shot faint rays of light upon the branches. As if they were blacksmiths, the branches forged from the light monstrosities made of shadow. As those shadows were thrown upon the forest floor, they formed fantastic terrors the likes of which Mike has never seen before.

But these monstrosities were not what the teenage boy with the brown eyes and blue shirt was running from with great haste. What he was running from was no shadow.

At least, not an entire one.

As Mike ran through the endless and jagged maze of trees, he came across a fork in the path. As Mike tried to choose which path he should take, he had a nagging thought.

Though frightening, there was a faint feeling of the familiarity in this forest. Had he been here before? Could there have been more in the air than the smell of rotting leaves, like the aroma of nostalgia, perhaps? Not knowing why, Mike ran down the path on the right.

"_Oh yes, do try that again. That's bound to work this time!"_ The unseen terror taunted the frightened teenager with scathing sarcasm. It was getting louder still.

In his sprint, Mike took a closer look at the trees all around him. He saw a most paradoxical sight. While some trees were damp to the point of saturation, others looked as if a massive fire had taken place. These charred trees had trunks reeking of soot and branches devoid of dying vegetation.

Then, Mike tripped again, this time over a fallen tree. You would have thought him to be one of those bimbos in those old science fiction films. Aside from not having an ample bosom, Mike differed the most from them in that he actually realized something by himself. Cleft chins be damned!

As he picked himself back up, Mike noticed that he was in the middle of what appeared to have been the center of a massive explosion. Surrounding him were trees that had been not merely not knocked down but uprooted by some great force. Forgetting for a moment his fear, the boy in the blue shirt ran his hand along the nearest tree that was still standing. He saw that the soot came off the bark and clung to his hand, leaving a long handprint along the trunk.

As he examined the soot from the tree in his hand, Mike was hit by a realization.

"_This happened recently. Maybe even within the past 24 hours?"_ He thought to himself.

Though the sixteen year old couldn't support this claim in any way, he was certain.

Even so, he was wondering what had caused such a scene? What massive event affected these mighty and imposing trees as if they were mere saplings? Was it still happening?

"_Wondrous isn't? That even in something so foul and dead, the universe finds a way to make it even more so."_ The voice spoke, yet with a subtle sense of longing and regret.

That went unnoticed by Mike as he ran once again.

He didn't get far.

* * *

Before him, Mike saw a massive network of vines covered in thorns. Then, a colossal boom was heard. A sound of thunder. Mere moments later, a bolt of lightning flashed in the otherwise featureless sky far above. As the surge in the sky shined, the thorny mangrove before him formed a face.

While some of the thorns formed into filed fangs that was not what disturbed him. It was that otherwise, the face he was gazing at was so much like his own.

Vertical columns of interlocking vine made the mirage of Mike's spiky hair. Others formed circles, with decayed lumps of foliage creating the masquerade of mud colored eyes.

Then, the charge of a second electric whip cracked across the sky. As the flash fell to the forest floor, Mike Saul the brown eyes of the mangrove Mike change to faint green before returning to their brown beginnings.

As if on cue from an unseen script, the sinister silence was broken by the voice's next lines of dialogue.

"_You can't run from me Mike. No more than you could your own shadow."_

Spurred by this latest thinly veiled threat, Mike did something he was sure he would regret. He climbed his way into the fanged mouth of the mangrove Mike.

Almost immediately Mike wanted to kick himself in the ass for making this choice. But he didn't because that would have made his current predicament only worse. As the teenage boy worked his way through, his body was receiving many small cuts from the many small thrones surrounding him. He felt the pain but the fear was too great.

Adrenaline was coursing through his body.

Someone should really bottle it!

Finally freeing himself from the mangrove's biological bowels, Mike came to find a massive cliff before him. It's dark and imposing mass filled the lad's vision and mind.

Hearing a bump from the thorns, Mike quickly turned away from the rocky monolith and darted his eyes all along the foliage. Panicking at the prospect of being trapped, the teenager in baby blue didn't see the thick line until it snaked down to him.

With it still spluttering, he grabbed it.

* * *

Hand by hand, pull by pull, Mike moved himself over the uninviting mountainside. After what seemed to be an eternity, he finally reached the top of the cliff. Finding more forest, he ran again.

"_Enjoying yourself? Run Forrest! Run!"_ The invisible menace spoke in a mocking manner.

Following yet another bout of running (no wonder why he was in great shape), Mike found himself in a small clearing.

There were the same massive and daunting trees as elsewhere but here there was no space between them. Realizing he would not be able to proceed here, Mike turned around to go back the way he came.

Smack!

Finding himself on the ground, Mike looked up in horror. The way he came was now blocked by equally tight trees.

He was trapped!

"_You like it? I call it 'The Mousetrap'."_ The voice so familiar to Mike by now beckoned.

Then it added with some small enthusiasm, _"But what good is a mousetrap without any cheese?"_

With that and an unseen snap of the fingers, lightning began to continuously sparked the sky. Thanks to the added illumination, Mike saw four small trees roughly his size at the center of the clearing.

At least, he thought they were trees. What else could they be? They were clearly covered in the same type of bark and foliage as everything else in this land of depression.

But something wasn't right.

Mike moved towards the four shapes. Slowly and with caution in mind you.

But he still came closer.

Closer.

Closer.

As he approached the closest one, Mike drank in the details. The most unusual details were a top which looked almost as if the leafs were glistening in the light, a trunk with many groves, and one branch that stretched out with one twig at its end extending upward. Said twig being the third of five, the one in the middle.

Then Mike look even closer and saw a face. Yes, this tree had a face. The face was one of smugness and superficiality, even if this wasn't shown in the eyes.

There were no eyes there.

Even so Mike, with a look of abject horror plastered upon his face, barely whimpered one little four-letter word.

"Vito."

This could not be!

"_How could Vito not only be here as a tree… but how could he be here at all!"_ Mike was screaming in his head while the silence of the clearing was equally loud.

Moved by a newly formed curiosity, Mike examined the other three shapes.

The one closest to the Vito tree was far more slender and delicate in appearance. A cluster of its roots, roots resembling those of a Banyan Tree, was raised far above an equally large cluster beside it. Both still reached the rotting earth under the seemingly eternal green mist. Near its eyeless face, Mike found some small patches of red moss and spores. As if it were lipstick.

As Mike understood what he saw, something escaped his lips.

"Svetlana."

Moving right along, Mike found the final two.

One was far more withered than the previous two and its trunk appeared to have been hunched, maybe even broken. Around this trunk there was a long vine, a vine that came from the branch of another tree. This fourth and final tree had a crown of leafs which were flat along the outer rims but contained a large bulb at the center.

It didn't take Mike long to figure out what the names of the two remaining trees were.

"Chester and…" Mike began but then…

"… Manitoba Smith, I presume?" The voice of the faceless fiend chimed in, finishing Mike's thought.

But what startled Mike the most was the proximity of the voice.

It came from right behind him!

Quickly turning his head…he saw it! There it was!

Hidden behind an all-encompassing shroud of shadows.

Only it's eyes were visible, those bright green eyes.

Eyes that had all the seeming of a demon that was dreaming.

After clearly savoring the look of terror on Mike's face, the shade spoke.

"Did you know that they say that the eyes are the windows into the soul? And yet there are no eyes here. Logically, there must not be any souls here as well. I wonder what they would have to say to that. Don't you?"

"What is this place?" Mike finally asked after a few moments of struggling to move his tongue.

Somewhat annoyed that its question went unanswered, the shadow nevertheless answered the teenager's question.

At least one of them would have proper manners!

"This place has no name. I personally call it 'The Forest of the Forgotten'. Where those things that have outlived their usefulness are exiled. But this forest is not friendly. Oh, you can run or hide or struggle but in the end, all but the mightiest or consumed by it. To spend an eternity as an intimate tree, aware of one's self but just another tree."

The cryptic answer didn't soothe Mike's nerves in the slightest. He was terrified but did his best to not sound intimidated as he asked his next question to the shadowy presence.

It wasn't enough.

"W…who are yo…you? What do y…you want with m…m…me?" Mike asked, pulling out those words as if they were his own teeth.

The figure in the shadows remain silent for a few moments but then answered.

"Firstly. I'm not a 'you'. I am a 'it'!"

That last part was spoken with a short but strong burst of anger. But the concealed creature continued in a calm demeanor after a second's pause.

"Secondly. I want everyone you hold dear to be bloodied and broken before me."

Mike had an expression of shock on his face as those words were said with icy contempt.

This either went unnoticed or un-regarded by the 'it' as it continued.

"Thirdly. By this time tomorrow, I will have accomplished exactly that. But enough of these games and this intellectually stimulating conversation, there is much work to be done."

With that, before Mike had a chance to retort or question, a flash of white light engulfed everything.

As Mike was raptured in the blinding light, he felt the sensation of blazing heat while also hearing the final moans of falling trees.

* * *

Mike suddenly found himself rising from his slumber, sweat running down his face.

Still feeling the fear, he surveyed his surroundings. He was still in Camp Wawanakwa.

"_It was all just a dream, a nightmare. Nothing more."_ Mike thought to himself.

He felt relief. Then he contemplated how odd it was to feel relief at discovering one was in Camp Wawanakwa.

This was after all, the very same place where he and his fellow contenders were made to endure all manner of painful and humiliating ordeals all in the name of the invisible god of ratings. But he still found comfort in being there, such a strange feeling.

He then looks to his former competitors, all temporary residence of slumber's kingdom. Though each face told a different tale.

Cameron, the black bubble boy who popped his bubble and emerged from it as the man who won Total Drama Revenge of the Island, slept with a confidence that Mike rarely saw in him. Though he would have naturally preferred for himself or Zoey to win, he couldn't be happier for his friend.

But for every winner, there must exist a loser. And in the bunk below Cameron's, Mike found this games loser in the form of Lightning. He had played almost every position in any sport but now he had to add another to that long roster: loser. The marks of an unpleasing man covered the face of the sleeping athlete. It was likely he felt shameful for losing to such a weakling. True that same weakling made a suit of armor in fifteen minutes from some garbage that came complete with enhanced strength, jet propulsion, and energy blasters while all he had was a pot on his head in a plastic plate with nails in it…but still.

Having seen enough of Lightning, Mike turned to the next three beds. The sleeping faces of Brick, B, and Scott were unremarkable. They all more-or-less spoke of some dominant feature: Brick's recently acquired self-satisfaction, B's silent wisdom, and Scott's devious grin, the same one that he had before the dreaded trauma chair and now afterward.

As he was thinking of his fellow males in the cabin, Mike heard something!

Still being somewhat jittery from his nightmare, Mike looked but found relief flowing through him.

It was only Sam.

Unlike the others, Sam was speaking in his sleep. From what little Mike could gather, the videogame junkie must have been reliving some past exploit from one of his many beloved titles.

"Crap…JUMP…wait wait…JUMP…run run…crap run crap run run crap…CRAP… wait…JUMP…JUMP OVER THE SPINNING FIRE…crap crap crap…GRAB THE AXE! Haha! Take that King Koopa! I finally get to meet the lovely Princess Toad…**Hey! What do you mean she's in another castle!**"

That kid had to get out more often.

Sighing with relief at the gamer's fantasy, Mike closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"_And I think I'm the oddest one in this cabin."_ Mike thought to himself.

But then, 'it' happened!

There was no major change, no spontaneous sprouting of muscles or instant application of lipstick.

The most that could be said to have changed was the expression on Mike's face.

It changed from one of relief to one far more sinister.

As the lids of his eyes parted, all that could be seen were orbs of brightest green.

Eyes that had all the seeming of a demon that was dreaming.

* * *

"**Dreams reflect current and future unsolved problems and rehearse their possible solutions." -Alfred Adler as paraphrased in Geoffrey A. Dudley's How to Understand Your Dreams**

* * *

**And there you have it, my 1st attempt at the art of fan fiction. As promised, I shall both give a more basic summary of what the story will become and the reasons for the dark tone.**

**Basic summary: A personality within Mike, a personality Mike doesn't even know of, takes control over his body. This personality is far more dangerous both in its abilities and intent than any of Mike's previous personalities. As they battle their own demons, both those existing before this new personalities' appearance and those made in its wake, the other teenagers at Camp Wawanakwa must fight to not only save Mike and themselves, but the entire world.**

**Why so dark: After that scene in "Grand Chef Auto", where you see what some have dubbed "Black Mike", I got to thinking what if it was a secret evil personality. Not too long after that, I formed the basic gist of the story, and it was a gist that very quickly and naturally went to a dark place. It is my intention that this story will be an apocalyptic horror epic with the characters of Total Drama Revenge of the Island.**

**I must warn the reader that both my upcoming summer job and my concerns over writing the characters in-character mean that it might be a little while before I post the next chapter. Since I already have the basic layout of the entire story thought of, I'm hoping that will make the actual writing process much easier. Anyway, the more reviews I get, the more likely I will be compelled to complete the next part of the story faster than I would otherwise. So please, pass the word on to your friends who are fans of Total Drama both on and not on and leave a review!**


	2. Ratio of Secrecy

**Author's Note: And here we are, the second chapter. I would like to start by giving a massive salute to those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! You guys are AWESOME and I hope more will join your ranks soon enough!**

**There is something I should tell you before you read this chapter. As I have been writing this chapter, I've been debating about whether this story will be/should be rated T or M. I believe that this chapter is almost entirely T but there are one or two scenes that might cross the line into M territory. Please give me your thoughts about such matters, ok? **

**Also, I should inform the reader that this chapter will not have much Mike and only slightly more of Zoey than Mike. The reason? This chapter is basically the calm before the storm: where most of the relationships, most of the characters' states, and some of the plot elements must be established for when things get serious. But don't worry, after a certain point much of the story will focus on Mike and Zoey. **

**It's worth noting that in many ways this chapter is the true testing ground for my writing of fan-fiction (why will be discussed in the author's notes at the bottom). **

**Once again, I must give a shout out to Akira500 on DA. You rock man! In particular for helping me with some moments where I had writer's block. **

**Having said all that, here's the second chapter of "Mad Mikey": ****Ratio of Secrecy.**

* * *

As the sun was shining a new day for Camp Wawanakwa, the light betrayed much in the way of warm and fuzzy appearances.

It has been well established by two seasons on Chris Maclean's privately owned Hell-hole on the sea that the faculties of this island could not be considered an ideal vacation spot by anyone. Except maybe for the blind, deaf, and dumb. Maybe.

However, despite what anyone could have guessed, it actually got even worse.

I guess Chris didn't listen to any concerns that locking up and releasing all at once every single atomic abomination on the island might (just MIGHT) have been a terrible idea. The mutants ran rampant after the finale and brought much of the crappy buildings to the ground. In their radiation filled rage, they even destroyed the dreaded Dock of Shame!

It was only thanks to Chris' beloved botanical behemoth, Larry, that something vaguely resembling safety was restored to Camp Wawanakwa.

However, with the destruction of the Dock of Shame, there was no way for ships to dock at Camp Wawanakwa. So in effect, the contestants, their host, and his crew were marooned on a radioactive island. Oh sure, there was Chris' helicopter but please…do you honestly think Maclean would let a bunch of stupid teenagers ride in his helicopter?

But wait!

What about the fact that the island was not truly even an island? What about when Courtney discovered the outside world just beyond its man-made borders? Well, long before the new turn of events with the Dock of Shame, a section of the Canadian military created a massive perimeter around the land connecting civilization to the "island".

This would not go unnoticed by Mr. Maclean or his producers. Steps would have to be taken in the near future.

In the meantime, like any cockroach, Chris could find potential even in Armageddon.

Until that day, he saw profitability from another, less extreme, angle.

With Total Drama Revenge of the Island now done and the ratings in, many more people than had been excepted couldn't get enough of the new cast. From Dawn's unfair elimination at the hands of Scott to Brick's noble actions in the mines, the exploits of the thirteen teenagers became a rating's boon.

So, Chris had a thought. Since no one could leave the island for at least a few weeks anyway until the Dock of Shame was repaired, why not simply let the contestants interact with each other in anyway they chose to feed the unquenchable demand for the new cast?

This brings to mind the saying of a wise man, that if the personalities of a group are strong enough, just watching them play a game of poker will be more entertaining than the greatest physical challenges.

That didn't mean, however, that those being filmed were happy with the arrangement.

There were protests from the contestants of course. But Chris, ever being a devil of details (or maybe just a devil) pointed to their contracts.

According to their host, the campers were under contract until they left the island, provided of course that they leave the same way they came: by boat (or swimming in mutant infested waters).

This elicited a united grunt from the contestants with the exception of Cameron.

The former bubble boy, being as observant as always, had his doubts. He claimed that he read the contract several times and that clause was not stated anywhere. After sending Cameron a look of annoyance, Chris had an intern fetch him a copy of the contract. Having flipped through the pages, Mr. Maclean found what he was looking for.

Sure enough, it was there, just as the host said. Despite not being able to contend with the words right in front of him, Cameron was unshaken in what he had previously stated. For one thing, to say Cameron's memory was photographic was like saying that Hitler was not a very nice man. Also, unless there was some new legal practice he didn't know of, Cameron was pretty sure that legal binding contracts don't write clauses in red ink while the rest of the document is typed in black.

While in essence being filmed as if they were penguins or gorillas, the campers didn't complain after seeing the "contract". Though the setting could not have been more unpleasant, this meant that they didn't have to worry about life-threatening challenges.

Just as importantly, they were able to truly interact with people who they had become friends with, without the pressures of alliances or elimination ceremonies.

Though it was a reality t.v. show first and foremost concerned with profit, the seasons of Total Drama proved to be a most unique social experiment. In this, an environment about as dire was one could be, all of the pomp and circumstance of life's barriers and one's self-designed archetypes evaporated. When out of their comfort zone, both physically and socially, the contestants begin to reveal and develop features which otherwise might never have seen the light of a brand new day. As a result, people who would never talk to or even know of each other could become the dearest of friends or (if fortune so smiled upon them) a couple.

From a single acorn, many mighty trees soon sprouted and thrived. Becoming a forest of friendship and pheromones.

For the former, one had to only follow the sounds of combat. Though this combat was not with fists and curses, but rather power drills and plasmids.

* * *

Though technically stranded, by Chris, the campers were not completely cut off from the outside world. Now that the contest was over, the campers were allowed things they could not have had during the competition (much to Chris' chagrin). Said things were brought to the island by helicopter.

The most impressive things brought were a large flat-screen t.v., the latest gaming system, four wireless controllers, and several of the hottest titles. This technological island in amidst of the crappy island became a hot spot for many campers. There were currently four campers huddled around the screen of highest HD.

No one would be shocked to find that Sam, video gamer extraordinar, was among those four. Also feeling right at home was B, the silent genius formerly known as Beverley. Though this explosives expert mime was more acquainted with hands-on technology, he was comfortable with and skilled at the art of gaming.

The remaining two, Brick and Cameron, were clearly out of their element. Brick was here because of the desire to make the friendships he couldn't during the competition. Cameron was here due to the encouragement of Mike, who played _Portal 2_ (a personal favorite of Mike's) with the other three yesterday.

But today they were playing _Bioshock: Raptured_, a recent reimagining/reboot of the hit 2007 video game. This version of the game had better graphics, more weapons, and several multiplayer match types. They were playing one called, 'Alpha-Omega'. Their goal was to bring a Little Sister back to their base camp while not getting killed by an extremely powerful enemy hunting them called the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy that's also guarding her while fighting the splicers and security systems of the submersed city.

And while the four players made their way through dark corridors of Art Deco decay, their attentions had shifted.

As the four played, two of them had entered a deep discussion in their comradery. And just what was being debated? World hunger? Abortion? The existence of God in a seemingly godless world? No. They did not waste their time with such travail matters. Instead, they were debating THE issue! The Ultimate Question (and the answer is not 42)!

"How can you say that they are not…?" Brick began asking before being interrupted by Sam.

"They are not plumbers!"

"What do you mean they are not plumbers? Do they or do they not travel through the sewers?"

"So, anyone who travels through the sewers is automatically a plumber?"

"No, but that is their job, right?"

"No, no its not! They've been fighters and teachers. Jugglers and tennis players. They've raced go-carts and F-1's! They've even been doctors. Do you know of any plumbers that have Ph.D.'s?"

While Sam was by all accounts a good-natured and reasonable guy, he was also a gamer. For those not acquainted with gamers, they almost always have an explosive core that can be sparked by seemingly trivial matters. That's why on-line gaming has swearing that makes seasoned sailors sound like sissies. And why Sam was going off on a tangent while the others just stared at him, not even paying attention to the video game.

"They've used mushrooms, fire flowers, and turtle shells. I've played every Mario game and I've never seen a plunger in their hands! Do you think they've fought King Koopa with a socket wrench? In fact, has a plumber ever defeated a dragon? Not unless you could by showing it your butt crack!"

As the gamer said this absurd statement, Cameron looked at B, who was sitting next to him.

"Really? You can't bring any of your wisdom to comment on this display of insanity?"

A shrug of the shoulders and a small smile was the only comment brought forth by B.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"After he came back to the island," Cameron told the camera, "B and I spent a lot of time together due to that business with Dakota. Turns out that aside from girth and, well, speaking, were simpatico. I'll admit that his, uh, vow of silence, is sometimes a pain. But is it really any odder than being in a bubble? Besides, ninety-three percent of all human communication is non-verbal anyway."

(Static)

B is seen has he merely shrugs his shoulders, as if saying _'Go figure'_.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

It was only at that point that Sam realized how stupid this whole discussion was. This was the kind of stuff that that former contestant Harold was known for.

"Uh, sorry guys. I guess I lost it here for a second." Sam said as he rubbed the back of his neck in shame.

As the three other players looked at each other, it took microseconds for them to reach a mental agreement. They were all perfectly aware of the stress that Sam has been under since the finale ended.

"That's perfectly fine, solider. We all sometimes loss our heads in the heat of…" Brick began to say with calmness, but then Brick's character was killed by a splicer with a crossbow.

"…Why would anyone use a crossbow when they have machine guns and grenade launchers? I thought this was suppose to be set in 1960, not Medieval times!"

While Sam's tangent was certainly greater in passion, Brick had been experiencing tiny tangents throughout there playing. Brick did have some experience with video games but those games were the sort that the Army used to train its troops. As a result, they were extremely realistic. Therefore, Brick was struggling with the more fantastical elements of the game and couldn't help but criticize the game. Though he kept his criticism to the realism of the weapons and not elements like having a fist full of lightning or fire at your fingertips.

After Brick said his latest statement, Cameron couldn't help be remember some of his previous ones:

"_That is not how you load a 1882 Spencer shotgun! You load them from the ejection port on the top, not the bottom!"_

"_A Thomson Submachine gun drum has fifty rounds of ammunition. Not forty! Would ten extra bullets have been too much?" _

"_I don't care how mutated they are, there's no way they would survive a point blank shotgun blast!"_

"_How can a research camera be considered a weapon? I know surveyance is important but that doesn't make a camera a weapon!"_

Cameron's train of thought was stopped when the four players finally made it to the lair of the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy (Brick's character came back to life thanks to a Vita Chamber). They saw the Little Sister, shivering and alone as she cried. Sadly, they also saw the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy. He was indeed an imposing sight. Two or three times the size of a normal Big Daddy; it was armed to the scuba-diving helmet. Each shoulder had a mounted weapon, a RPG launcher on the left that fired heat-seeking rockets and a Gatling gun style machine gun on the right. On it's left arm there was a massive gauntlet that concealed a large flamethrower. The entire right arm was a massive power drill.

Against such a powerful foe, a head-on assault would be suicide so the players had to use traps and teamwork to outsmart it.

With that, Sam's character fired one of the new weapons available in this game. Using his grenade launcher, what appeared to be a proximity mine was fired at the ground some distance away from the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy. Instead of the normal green blast radius indicators, this mine had purple ones.

But then, a sweet sound began. In contrast to the decayed city of Rapture, the lively and rhythmic music of _Waltz of the Flowers_ flowed through the air like a delicate perfume gently blowing some flowers into a swirling dance.

Despite being a lumbering palooka in a foul smelling diving suit, the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy became entranced by the soothing medley and began slowly walking towards its source. As it did, Sam and Brick ran to get the Little Sister while Cameron and B watched their backs for the splicers that would be attracted by the tune.

As they played, Cameron, being as observant as always, noticed that Brick had a subtle sad look on his face. Cameron could guess why. Shortly after the finale, Brick unashamedly proclaimed that he was going to use his portion of Cameron's winnings to enter fashion school. Everyone was naturally shocked. While Brick appeared to have no qualms about what he said, Cameron couldn't help but suspect that there was some shame in the this supposedly macho-military man wanting to be in fashion school.

"You know Brick," Cameron said, "the military has branched out into areas other than direct combat in the past."

"Like what?" Brick asked interested in what Cameron was about to say.

"During World War One, there was a program called Project Façade. The medical discipline of plastic surgery came into being because of reconstructive surgery for soldiers who became facially disfigured due to the massive use of heavy artilleries." Cameron said as he recalled the contents of one of the countless books he read in his bubble.

"Really? Then in a way, I'll be continuing a noble lineage of the military. What did those helped by this project look like afterward?"

As Brick asked Cameron, a wave of splicers charged at the players due to them being attracted to the music like little moths to a flame. They were truly grotesque. One had an exposed eye and an exposed eye socket without an eye while also have nostrils vaguely resembling those of a bat. Another looked as if it was wearing a Zorro style mask, except that it was made of human skin grafted to its face.

"Just like that actually." Cameron said, before realizing that this wouldn't help Brick.

Brick briefly held his head down in shame. B simply raised an eyebrow.

Then it hit Cameron that what he just said made Brick feel worse. While the bubble boy had made leaps and bounds in terms of socializing, he still had some things to learn.

Seeing Brick ashamed unintentionally by Cameron, Sam spoke up.

"Luckily Brick has a interest in fashion and not faces," Sam said before adding with a clearly artificial gruffness, "Isn't that right Private McArthur?"

Despite (or perhaps because of) that terrible attempt to sound like a officer, Brick smiled at the gamer and said, "Affirmative, Sergeant Sam!"

This put everyone in good spirits; just in time to hear the explosion of the musical proximity mine and the angry roar of the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy. The four were quickly slaughtered by the enraged steam punk golem.

After all of them were easily killed, the scores of each player were presented. Though they all technically lost, the game still evaluated each player's performance and ranked them. The rankings were as follows: Sam came in first (big shocker), B placed in second, Brick clawed his way in third, and Cameron came in dead last.

'_10__th__**'BLEEPING'**__ time in a row!'_ B thought to himself. He may be a good soul, but like everyone else, B thought with words he would never say. Which in B's case meant almost any words at all.

Cameron sighed at coming in last place again. For all of Cameron's knowledge and skills, he was a terrible video game player. Though he spent sixteen years in an environment that could have made a master gamer, Cameron spent those years reading books.

Changing from being the observed to the observer, Brick was the first to notice this.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"That's the tenth consecutive game that Cameron's come in dead last. Believe me," Brick said as he began unconsciously rubbing one of his arms, "I know how hard it is to keep doing something you bomb at every single time."

His voice then took on the flair of pride, "But being the good solider that he is, Cameron gets right back up and goes at it again anyway."

As he salutes the camera, Brick then adds, "I salute him!"

Returning his arms to their normal positions, Brick continues, "Plus, Cameron has the benefit of the bullets being fired not truly aimed at him…or real."

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Also noticing Cameron's sigh, Sam quickly pressed some buttons in the time that it took for the next game to re-load (up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A).

Being the one sitting the closet to Sam, Brick saw him do this but chose to say nothing.

The next game did indeed have Cameron do far better, it appeared as if the enemies' attacks didn't damage Cameron so much this time. Though Cameron couldn't explain why this was, he wasn't complaining since he ended up coming in second place. He was overjoyed at finally not coming in dead last.

Sam and Brick looked at each other and smiled for their friend's joy. Spurred by this, Cameron asks everyone if they would be willing to go another round. They all accepted.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Yeah, I put in a cheat code to help Cameron. I've been burned a few times by jerks on-line, especially some guy named Leeroy Jenkins. And I don't want his lack of experience to deter him from video games. Brick saw me put in the code but he seemed cool with it. I'm pretty sure B didn't see anything." Sam said to the camera in the Confessional.

Then after a very brief chuckle, the gamer added, "Even if he did, he won't say anything."

(Static)

B is seen nodding his head as if in agreement.

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As they played, they actually started to get the upper hand over the grim guardian. Sam was in the zone! He had killer focus and energy to burn! But he was so focused that he didn't detect the mass moving ever so silently behind him.

With his eyes like daggers at the screen, Sam was caught unawares when the figure from behind turned his head. As it did, it gave Sam something.

The one thing which could make even the most committed and focused of gamers not give a damn….the kiss of a beautiful blonde.

As their lips parted, Sam stared at the lemon hair and lime eyes of his beloved, Dakota.

Forgetting the game, and the sounds of his character being violently gored by a power drill, Sam just gazed at Dakota and the sequence of events that occurred during the competition and over the past few weeks came rushing over him.

In more ways than one, Dakota was one of the sleeper contestants of this season. A girl whose hair and eyes reflected the colossal amounts of gold and cash her family obtained through the Milton hotel empire, many a viewer thought she was going to be nothing but a fame obsessed bitch. But then those same viewers were hit by a double-whammy. First, she was a sweet and actually lonely young woman who just wanted love. Second, the island transformed her into a spiky twelve-foot tall rage monster.

It's hard to say which was more shocking!

Sadly this was not without precedent. There was no denying that the events and challenges under the direction of Chris MacLean pushed the boundaries of what was viewed as acceptable by society or legal under the law. Many times over, Chris and his producers should not only have been arrested for needless endangerment but also taken for every penny they had. Sure some of the contestants in the past had been so radical affected by the show as to no longer be human in the fullest sense of the word but this time they crossed a line.

They dared to anger a man with a massive bank account! And now they were paying the price for it, a price with a lot of zeros behind it.

Along with the government, Chris soon found the entire Milton hotel empire breathing down his neck. Rightly fearing the cruel ruthlessness of Mr. Milton's lawyers, Chris agreed to allow many scientists to come to the island and to erect a facility dedicated to curing Dakota of her mutated state.

Thanks to the magic of money, it only took a few days to build a complex medical faculty. If you think that this is impossible, you clearly don't know what money can do. At first, despite having the most talented doctors and advanced equipment in the world, no recognizable progress was made over the first four days or so. Although the seasoned doctors protested with tooth and claw, the binary black brainiacs of B and Cameron were added to the facility's staff.

The turnaround was so impressive that these two teenagers made the most highly regarded professionals in medicine look like a bunch of slack jawed yokels. While hours' worth of technical jargon and medical mumbo-jumbo could be barfed out to explain this, what's important to know is that they were able to isolate and restrain the recent 'Dakotazoid' part of Dakota's psyche. As a result, in both appearance and personality, Dakota had returned to what she once was.

"Hey Sam." Dakota said full of pep.

A little startled by this this, it took Sam a moment to respond.

"Oh, hi Dakota. Haha."

Ever since returning to normal, Dakota still felt largely isolated except when around Sam. As a result, she rarely left the medical complex and was generally not having much zest.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked still trying to understand why Dakota was acting this way. Not that he was displeased by her upbeat demeanor mind you.

"Oh I just missed my Sammy whammy is all." Dakota said as she sat down on Sam's lap and snuggled up against him.

Despite whatever social convention would dictate, Dakota had come to develop very strong feelings for the geeky gamer. She had dated other guys of course (often much more physically attractive ones to boot) but Sam was the first one that she felt like truly cared about her as a person.

Dakota then turned to the screen and saw that the Alpha-Omega Big Daddy had gutted the island's Geek squad.

"Uh, sorry sweetie." Dakota said as she just realized that she cost her boyfriend and his friends their game. She knew how much video games meant to her not so little lover boy.

"Come on Dakota. You know you matter much more to me than a video game. And coming from me, that's saying a lot."

As hard as it was to believe, Sam was not lying. Sam was very self-aware of his place on the social totem pole. Guys like him only got a girl like Dakota in fairy tales. And yet here she was, sitting on his lap with a smile so sweet that it could give someone diabetes.

"It's true ma'am. When he is not talking about video games, he speaks only of you." Brick told the blond beauty, knowing that he was scoring his friend some major points.

"And what exactly do you tell them?" Dakota asked Sam as she slightly raised an eyebrow with that sweet smile of hers still present.

"Well, let's see. You're the sweetest, most beautiful girl I've ever met. Being with you gives me more joy than all of my hours of gaming combined. Every time I see you I fight the urge to pinch myself to make sure I'm not in some wonderful dream."

As Sam said these things, Dakota's eyes grew and her cheeks blushed. Of course she knew all of this already but she loved hearing it anyway from the boy with an auburn Jew fro. But Sam had one last card up his sleeve.

"And you're an incredible kisser."

As if on cue, Dakota locked lips once again with Sam. As they looked at the lovers, the three single guys couldn't be happier for their friend. Cameron had a large smile on his face. Brick lightly nodded his head in approval. B gave the two an unseen thumbs up.

After their kiss, Dakota looked at the large television screen and turned to Sam.

"Can I give it a try?"

The three other players looked at each other perplexed by this question.

"You play video games, Dakota?" Cameron asked, saying what they were all thinking.

Looking at the bespectacled teenager, Dakota answered Cameron's question.

"I've just started recently thanks to Sam. I guess I'm slowly becoming a gamer. Some of them are so much fun! Especially the ones with those two plumbers."

With Dakota still facing B, Brick, and Cameron, Sam for a split second had a look of unhidden shock on his face. How could his princess say that, such blasphemy!

As that expression passed, the boy with the black eyes looked over Dakota's shoulder to observe his three friends. They were all trying to keep stoic faces but failing as great big horsy grins started forming.

While Dakota still stared at them, now slightly confused, Sam shot them a look of frustration, as if saying to them, _'Not one word'_.

Having seen enough of the three, she turned back to face Sam with puppy-dog eyes and her lips in a little pout. Dakota knew that he didn't have the willpower to say no to this face.

It took about one second before Dakota's Puss in Boots face did its job.

"Of course you can, my princess." Sam said as Dakota let out a light squeal. Turns out that Dakota had a weakness too, being called princess, except when in an iron clap begging to stay on a reality t.v show.

"Would you like me to move so you can have my seat?" Sam asked.

Pondering this, Dakota, still sitting on Sam's lap, quickly gave the gamer an answer.

"Nope. I have the best seat in the house right here. It's comfy, heated, and cushioned."

This time it was Sam who leaned in for a kiss. Dakota very willingly returned it. He had been hoping that would be Dakota's answer but he felt like he had to give her the choice.

* * *

"Oh poop." Dakota said with a cute pout as her character met yet another grisly end.

True to what Dakota said not too long ago, she was _**slowly**_ becoming a gamer. Very slowly. Being more at home in the world of Mario, Dakota found the city of Rapture to be a very uninviting one. Since this was literally her first time playing this game, she made many mistakes as she was learning the controls. The others present were very good about not laughing at the many mistakes that Dakota made. However, they couldn't stop themselves when she fired a proximity mine only to walk in the blast radius and kill herself a few moments later.

Like many a new gamer, Dakota was not taking her loses well. Each defeat made her a little more displeased with herself. Dakota was feeling good today, a fairly rare state these days. And she wanted to take advantage of that and bond with Sam, who she hadn't been able to be with to the degree that she desired. Not only that, but she was hoping to impress her new boyfriend with her increased skills at gaming.

Years of grooming at the highest levels of society taught Dakota many things. But the most important was to be prefect. A _**true**_ man would settle for nothing less. Not only did you have to have flawless skin and bouncy breasts but you had to have a personality without blemish: cheerful, bubbly, devoid of sadness or issue, an enteral beckon of pep. Not only that, but a true woman had to grow to match and master whatever the man liked. If it's football, become a captain of the cheerleading team. If it's academics, read the classic works of literature. If it's gaming, become good at gaming.

But now she was making a miserable spectacle of herself. Just like when her dress got caught on a door and she lost the back half at Cary's party. Or when she found out that the apparently sweet Charlie just wanted to get her in bed. Or when Elijah broke up with her because she wouldn't smoke marijuana. Or when Allen publically shamed her for not liking football enough. Or when it was revealed that Gary was just using her as a beard to hide that he was gay.

'_Why have all of the guys I've dated turned out to be such creeps?'_ Dakota couldn't help thinking to herself as she was playing yet another ultimately disgraceful match.

But Sam wasn't a creep. He was so genuine and sweet. He would never even think about hurting her in anyway. But could Dakota do the same? She cared about Sam more than anything in the world. But she also knew what kind of person she was.

Dakota couldn't help but hear the same sad songs that played in her mind during her pervious experiences with boys, now with some added lyrics.

_**You're embarrassing him! **_

_**You are failing him! **_

_**He'll never truly love you! **_

_**You will never know love! **_

_**You'll never be good enough! **_

_**You're turning him away! **_

_**You don't deserve a guy as great as him! **_

_**Your nothing but a shallow spoiled little rich girl! **_

_**What guy so sweet could possibly love someone as vain as you!**_

_**You are pathetic! Worthless! **_

_**You can't do anything without daddy's money behind you!**_

_**He will lie to you! Hurt you! **_

_**He only cares about your looks! **_

_**You can't trust anyone! Not Sam! Not yourself! **_

Like a swarm of rapid killer bees, these thoughts buzzed around in Dakota's brain and would not leave. Despite Dakota keeping up a friendly façade, she was feeling the stings of this psychological swarm.

And then she saw it! **She saw it again!**

The horrors of Rapture melted away as if they were fresh paint dosed by a water cannon. What replaced them was an even greater horror. Dakota lost all sense of anything else as the images began playing themselves out before her in their ghastly succession.

She saw Sam with a look of sheer terror as he appeared to be trapped between two massive but undeterminable objects. Then as she heard a progression of loud pops, Sam's face vaguely resembled the agonized expression of the classic Impressionist painting _The Scream_ as Sam's eyes and mouth bugled to a degree that should have been inhuman. The gamer looked as if he was in the bleak vacuum of space and the life was being violently forced out of him. At the same time, a furious flood of blood blasted its way over Sam's frightened form as if it was emerging from a long dormant volcano. The blood filled all of the space before Dakota.

Back at Camp Wawanakwa, Sam and the others were becoming greatly concerned. For a few minutes now, Dakota had stopped playing the game and was just staring at the screen with the controller still in her hand.

"Dakota? Dakota? What's the matter Dakota?" Sam called out to the girl still sitting on his lap.

As Sam called out to her, Dakota was not there. The gamer was so worried about his first girlfriend that he didn't notice that something had changed. Dakota's normally money green eyes had become bright yellow and developed blood red pupils.

Though the four young men didn't see this, they all had a creeping suspicion of what was about to happen next. Unfortunately they were proven correct.

The confirmation came with an overture of light snaps, crackles, and pops (insert Rice Krispies joke here, be creative). This was joined by the sound of stretching. Though Sam knew what was happening and that it was like looking into the gaze of a Gorgon, he looked for the source of the sounds. As he found it in an instant, his worst fears were realized.

It was Dakota. She, his beloved, was becoming a monster right on his lap.

* * *

As she became slowly taller and taller, Dakota looked at Sam's frightened face and knew that they were both trapped. Her body had become so tense that she was incapable of moving it. Though the transformation was less than a minute old, Dakota's body had already increased in weight enough to pin Sam's legs underneath it.

With the weight pressing down on his legs become greater and greater by the second, Sam was forced into a front row seat to his girlfriend's metamorphosis. He saw her slowly growing towards the height of twelve feet. But that was the least radical ordeal of this process. Sam saw the more ghastly effects play out before him in horrific detail.

Her blond hair suddenly began to stiffen and curve upward until it became an overlapping series spiky of locks that were now bright green. She felt this as if it was someone pulling on her hair until it was locked into a fully upward position. In size, shape, and solidity, Dakota's hair now had far more in common with the horns of a rhinoceros than human hair (even though both are made from keratin).

Her hair wasn't the only part of her that was becoming spiny. Her arms, like the rest of Dakota's body, were becoming much larger than nature intended. To ensure that this unnatural growth didn't produce any long-lasting damage, her body had to create additional structures to contain and shape the growth. These structures took the form of large barb-like spines that were made of super-tense muscles and armored skin. Though she didn't see them, she felt these spines as they were slowly forcing themselves out of her elbows and shoulders as if a metal pole was being pushed out of her body. There was another, the largest one of these spines that formed what would become a tail.

As Dakota slowly started to lose the perceptions of her own body, her eyes (while they were still hers) darted downward and looked at her hands. But she did not see her hands, her slender feminine fingers or her perfectly pedicured fingernails. What she saw instead were increasingly colossal claws that were becoming curved, titanic talons. Her fingernails grew outward where there had been no nail before. They also grew inward and began covering and penetrating the soft flesh of her fingers with the same sharpened skin as her growing nails. It felt as if a serrated knife was slowly slithering its way from her nail to her knuckle, on each finger and thumb.

Then Dakota heard something smash. Looking at "her" hands, Dakota saw that the game controller that she had been holding this whole time was smashed into a pile of circuits and microchips. Things had a nasty habit of getting smashed when Dakota transformed.

In a minute of two, that would include Sam's legs. The gamer felt the weight that by now felt like it was matching that of a blue whale. His black eyes looked around for any deliverance from feeling his bones being flattened into powder.

All he found was his three friends, though clearly concerned about his well being, powerless to help him. They learned the hard way that getting too close to Dakota as she was transforming only accelerated the process and made her/it angry.

Caught between two unmoving objects, there concern for Sam and there powerlessness to help him, the three witnesses would not allow themselves to fully perceive what was happening. For whatever reason, each was blocking off some sense to the display before them. B had his hands over his mouth. Brick covered his ears (for some reasons). And the observant Cameron closed his eyes but put his hands over them anyway for good measure. They couldn't bear what they knew was coming. It was inevitable. Hopeless.

But then, from nowhere, there came deliverance.

"Dakota, look at me. Keep your eyes on me!" A voice without an owner said. A high-pitched squeaky voice.

Taking their eyes off of Dakota, the three friends saw a Seraph, an angel. They saw Dawn.

* * *

Despite them and Sam being overjoyed to see the Moonchild, her grayish-blue gaze focused intently on the transforming Dakota. It seemed that even in mid-metamorphosis Dawn got Dakota's attention because the mutating girl's yellow-red eyes stared right at her.

As Dawn slowly got closer to Dakota, the air felt ever denser with every step. Though fear was pushing on her like hurricane force winds, she did not falter. She had faced dangerous beasts in the past and knew how to handle them. She had helped Dakota several times over the past few weeks.

Ignoring the angry leers and rumbling growls from Dakota's form, Dawn came to stand directly in front of the beast. Had it been anyone else, they would have been swiped away by the creature's now massive claws. But with her presence able to put the mutant into a soothed trance, Dawn was able to not only get close but also actually place her hand on Dakota's forehead.

But not just anywhere on her forehead. Dawn placed one of her slender pale hands on the area in-between the eyebrows, the location of the Ajna. Having been trained in the spiritual practices of many cultures including those of India's Hindus, Dawn knew that the Ajna was not only the sixth of the seven bodily channels of spiritual energy called chakras but also the port from which two beings could become connected by their spiritual energy. If one was so gifted, they could guide another through their own spiritual energy. Thankfully for everyone there, Dawn was.

Though once Dawn placed her hand over Dakota's Ajna everything was silent around her and Dakota's body stopped transforming, she was experiencing a maelstrom of emotions. Her body was in Camp Wawanakwa but Dawn was traversing through the former fame-hog's spiritual energy.

She felt Dakota's fear, sorrow, anger, shame, and despair as others feel the rays of the sun. Not physically tangible but impossible to be numb to. Then Dawn heard something, a guide through the swirling chaos. She heard weeping.

Following that weeping, Dawn found the original Dakota. Though to Dawn the emotions around her were a merely a tangible presence, to Dakota they were a roaring typhoon that made her a prisoner in her own mind. The fears of herself and the feeling that all hope was lost had broken the beautiful blonde. Determined to free her from this nexus of negative energy, Dawn began the process of doing just that.

With her lips not moving and her eyes not blinking on the island, Dawn was able to beckon to Dakota.

"_Dakota, can you hear me Dakota?"_

Dakota had stopped weeping after hearing the familiar friendly voice. But that didn't mean she was any less trapped within herself. Plus, the fact that this voice, though of a friend, was talking to her from literally nowhere didn't ease her nerves any at all.

"_I know you are frightened but you must follow my voice."_ Dawn said with some small sense of urgency. Only a small sense though because anything else might scare her away.

Even so, Dawn knew that time was of the essence. Sam's legs couldn't take much more.

"_I know that you only see the negative inside yourself but there is much more to you. There is so much that is good and wonderful about you. You might not see it but others have and embrace you for who you are. If you follow my voice, I can show you."_

Fear still gripped her and forced its full weight on Dakota. However, that tiny encouragement was enough to get Dakota to stand up and begin walking towards Dawn's voice.

After some distance, Dakota began to notice that the terrain around was shifting, changing. Before, there were only dark blue winds and thunderous clouds. But now, the landscape's color scheme was bright yellow and green. Though the same winds were still around her, they became much less forceful and far cloudier. In the churning mists of jade and gold, Dakota began to see forms taking shape. She began to see things familiar to her, faces and events from the recent past. Her memories.

She saw when she and Dawn laughed after a bird pooped on the Moonchild's light blonde hair during their first mediation session. Then she saw her and Zoey as they worked on each other's hair and talked for hours about Mike and Sam. Then came the time that she and Sam were overjoyed that first time she beat a level in _Super Mario Bros._, her first achievement in gaming.

Dakota felt mostly fear and dread after appearing to be rid of the 'Dakotazoid'. Ever since that first indescribably terrifying transformation which Dawn barely stopped in time, she was consumed by concern that she would alone and trapped in a monster. But these moments and others shined like stars from another galaxy. So distant and yet so bright.

As Dakota bathed in the warmth of these past but still shining stars, she saw her surroundings change. As the fog dispatched, Dakota slowly started to see a large flat-screen t.v. with many trees and a bright sun behind it. As she began seeing this change, her body had begun changing back to its original form. Once she returned to her human form, a massive weight was lifted from everyone's shoulders…and Sam's legs. Though they had been in considerable pain, Sam's legs had no true damage. Bursting with joy, Sam leaned in to hug Dakota but when he did he hugged nothing but air.

He then realized that Dakota had leapt off his lap and moved a few paces away.

The brightness that shined like supernovas had already died out.

Despite her obvious joy at not losing control, two other feelings overwhelmed Dakota. Guilt and fear. Guilt in that without Dawn's intervention she would have not only become that monster but hurt Sam. She could have hurt Sam…or worse! And that's what the fear stemmed from, losing Sam. Whether by death or him leaving her, Dakota feared being alone. Maybe it wouldn't happen today but how could it not somewhere down the road?

Dakota just stood there, with the expression of someone who survived a bombing raid. Now, whatever thoughts were lingering behind her fleeting good mood came to the forefront of Dakota's mind.

'_It almost happened, it almost happened again. I…I can't keep it in. __**I'm not strong enough!**__ It'll just keep trying to get out and __**take control for good!**__ It'll just keep doing it and doing it and doing it until it succeeds. It's never going to stop.'_

This though so rung in Dakota's mind that she didn't realize that Dawn was talking to her. She saw the light blonde moving her mouth and heard noise but didn't recognize words.

"I'm sorry but could you please repeat that?" Dakota asked Dawn.

After nodding her head, Dakota repeated herself.

"I said that me and B are going to travel there the wildness and help out the poor creatures on this island. Would you like to come with us?"

Dawn thought at walking through the woodlands might be just what Dakota needed.

"No, that's ok. Thank you for the offer Dawn but I need to be alone right now."

Though she likely would enjoy some companionship right about now, she didn't want to be around anyone at the moment. Feeling ashamed and sacred at almost losing control.

"Where are we meeting for today's session?" Dakota asked Dawn as she was becoming increasingly preoccupied with her fears.

"Our usual place. In three hours, same as always." Dawn replied, sad that Dakota wished to be alone but still respectful of her wishes.

After Dakota lightly nodded her head in approval, Dawn and B left for the forest. Both had expressions of concern on their faces.

With that, Dakota slowly walked into the woods. Her mind was full of unpleasant images and her eyes were starting to get teary.

This did not go unnoticed by Sam.

He would be lying if Sam said he wasn't truly afraid when Dakota was transforming right on his lap. He felt his legs start to bend under Dakota's increasing weight. Maybe even start to snap or break.

Though greatly concerned for his own self-pervasion, when Sam saw Dakota like this that didn't seem as important. There was something about Dakota that made Sam feel so good inside. It wasn't her amazing looks or sweet personality (though those were great). It was something else that though Sam couldn't explain, he unquestionably felt. So much so that seeing Dakota so upset was about the worst thing in the world.

After Dakota was out of sight, Sam very quickly reached the same state that she was in.

Seeing their friend so saddened and being unable to think of anything to say or do that would comfort him, Brick and Cameron silently got up and left Sam where he sat.

They knew that Sam had to be alone right now as well.

As they left, Sam just sat exactly as he had been before. The only difference was that his right hand was moving up and down the spot on his leg were Dakota had been sitting. As if trying to recapture the warmth he felt from his beloved and remove the pain that he had experienced mere minutes ago.

* * *

"I feel so bad for them! They are two really nice people who are crazy about each other. And, for all of my knowledge, I make their situation worse. Some friend I turn out to be!" Cameron lamented to Brick as they walked into the woods. Guilt was eating away at him.

"I still don't get it, how exactly do you feel that this is your fault? You weren't the one who mutated Dakota." Brick asked, both to understand the situation and try to comfort his friend.

"True. But that doesn't absolve me of blame for her current predicament." Cameron said as he stopped in front of a cluster of bushes. He was preparing himself to explain to Brick what happened to Dakota since she was apparently "cured"

"You see, me and B thought that once we isolated the 'Dakotazoid' part of Dakota's psyche, that it would cease to exist. In the same way that when you remove a Taenia saginata…uh, Beef Tapeworm, from a host it dies. But it appears that isolating it had the opposite effect of what was intended. Rather than destroying it, we gave it a consciousness of it's own."

"So you made Dakota human but unknowingly gave her a second personality?"

"Sadly, yes. And it seems that it is trying to take over Dakota's body. It appears that it has more success when Dakota becomes angry or upset."

"Then why was she starting to transform when she was playing that video game?"

"I honestly don't have a clue. These are almost entirely uncharted waters. The closest comparison is Multiple Personality Disorder, like Mike had, but even that is of almost no help with Dakota's case. The only thing that seems to have any real effect on her is her mediation sessions with Dawn, even though their effect is only fleeting. But there is at least one small victory that I can tally up."

Cameron was poised to continue, to say the only bit of good news involved but he became distracted be a faint rumbling in the nearby bushes.

"Which would be?" Brick asked to get Cameron's attention once again.

"Oh right! Well, B and me were able to give Dakota a mental safety valve, if you will. In the instance when Dakota does lose control and the other personality takes over, after sixty minutes a mental override occurs and the 'Dakotazoid' is repressed once more and remains completely repressed for at least thirty minutes."

"Really? And how exactly were you able to do that?" Brick asked with a genuine desire to learn more about this process.

Right before Cameron could answer Brick, the bushes behind them began to move again. The bushes this time was closer to the two teenagers. So close that Cameron could hear faint yet noticeable angry grunts.

Letting out a begrudging sigh, Cameron thought to himself, _'He just never learns'_.

He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now.

Having no sense of peril in his voice, Cameron calmly asked Brick if he could wait a second.

Without even waiting for a response from the puzzled Private, the former bubble boy rolled up his right sleeve. What Brick saw peaked his preexisting puzzlement.

Above Cameron's elbow, there was an armband that was made of metal that had a dial on it. Turning said dial, rows upon rows of overlapping metal plates clawed their way down Cameron's arm until they reached his hand. Once there, the metal morphed into a gauntlet with a glowing core of energy over the palm.

Once this bizarre device was fully formed, Cameron, with the same demeanor as moments ago, asked Brick if he could kindly step about 8 paces back. The Cadet compiled with the request, as the palm's core began coursing with electrical currents.

Now with Brick several steps away, the being in the bushes forced its way out. It was an electrical current of a different kind…it was Lightning.

With a look of explosive anger on his face, the Athletic Overachiever let out a fierce growl as he leaped towards his target.

Said target simply lifted the gauntlet.

The fierce growl of the one called Lightning was drowned out by a booming symphony of alien syllables and the sound of thunder. His form was lost in a sudden flood of light, leaving only the jock's muscular outline visible. That outline was filled with blots of voltage, giving the burly teenager's bones the same flickering fluoresce as a house's circuit breaker on the fritz.

A few moments of this was sufficient. Turning the dial back to what it was, Cameron saw the small sheets of metal receded back into the armband.

Having been suspended in the air by the force of blast, Lightning fell to the ground with a blunt thud. His already black skin became slightly darker by a faint coating of ash. Small lines of smoke slowly slithered skyward, as if fleeing his failure. A cindered cough came from Lightning's scorched lips.

Appearing to have been completely un-phased by the incredible display, Cameron turned back to Brick and asked, "Sorry about that. Now then, what were you saying?"

Brick's black eyes looked at seemingly meek young man with awe at the display of invulnerability.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL **

(Static)

"I have to say; I'm very impressed with Cameron's resourcefulness. Who knows, maybe after we get off this island I can convince him to join my squad?" Brick mused to the Confessional

Then Brick thinks for a moment and remembers how this was the same kid whose body was weighted down by his own clothes while trying to climb a mountain.

After having a look of realization, Brick weakly added, "Uh…never mind."

(Static)

"After I said I would spilt my winnings with all of my fellow campers, I got on good terms with pretty much everyone," Cameron said with satisfaction before weakly adding,

"…except Lightning."

Cameron gave a brief sigh before continuing.

"It seems that Lightning still hasn't gotten over the fact that I beat him. I just hope in time that Lightning will accept his defeat with quiet dignity and grace."

(Static)

Lightning's image appears before the camera and a Pandora's box of profanity is opened.

"…'MOTHER-**'BLEEPER'**! LIGHTNING'S GOIN' KICK THE LIVING **'BLEEP'** OUT THAT SKINNY, LITTLE CHICKEN-**'BLEEP'**! AND HIS** 'BLEEPING'** DISTURBINGLY LARGE HEAD! OH…LIGHTNING WILL EAT HIS HEAD AND **'BLEEP'** OUT HIS SKULL! YEAH…THAT'S WHAT LIGHTNING IS GOIN' DO! EATING HEADS…** 'BLEEPING'** SKULLS! **BLEEPBLEEPBLEEPBLEEPBLEEP!**"

(Static)

Cameron looks straight into the camera with a deadpan look on his face.

"Realizing that the Apocalypse will likely come sooner, I had to invent this."

Cameron rolls up his sleeve, turns the dial to the metal armband, and shows the full-formed device to the camera.

"Behold the Killowatt-Ionic-Magnetic-Ohm-Torrent-Appendage. Or Kimota for short."

Then for no reason Cameron shouts out, "KIMOTA!"

Cameron lightly chuckled to himself before saying.

"I think I'm finally starting to get why Lightning has his own battle cry."

(Static)

"Now that the little girl has that spark sleeve, Lightning has to find a way to out fox him."

After admitting that, the jock thinks to himself out loud, "Out fox him…fox him…fox…?"

He then expresses a sudden look of epiphany.

"That's it! Sha-brilliant! Man, I'm good! Makes me wonder why I didn't get higher scores on my STD'S? Who's mentally slow now, sha-suckers! SHABAM!"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Before Brick could repeat his question, there came another interruption. But at least this one was friendly…right?

"Hey Patton! Now that you've seen some fireworks, you ready for your daily drill of failure?" A rough voice asked, though it almost sounded like a command.

Turning their heads, Brick and Cameron found Jo looking at them with her purple pupils. Her expression was hard to read, somewhere between annoyance and anticipation. The normal ambiguities of being anything with Jo except a clear cut foe.

As Cameron stared at the not so girly girl in the grey sweat clothes, Brick responded without hesitation and even a bit of excitement.

"That's a negative! But I'm more than prepared for to give you yours."

Once again trading places with Cameron in terms of being puzzled, Brick said, "I'm sorry Cameron but I will have to get your answer another time. I have a race to win!"

As Brick and Jo ran off together, Cameron was left standing there in confusion with his mouth wide open at the almost friend-like interaction he just witnessed.

Cameron remained as unmoving as a statue when he heard the two continue their chat as they ran further and further from his limited sight.

"Do you think you can handle a 8K today?"

"Affirmative ma'am!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"B, Cam, and Sam make up a good platoon! There just not one that I would want to rely on in combat. As fun as those video games are, I must admit that I prefer physical activity. That's why I compete with Jo. Ok, sure, she's teased me continuously…and she's proven that she has no code of honor… and she was part of the reason I was voted off but…." Brick said before stopping mid-sentence with a puzzled look on his face.

With part of his unibrow arched as he struggled with how to continue this train of thought, Brick said the only thought he had at the moment.

"Can I get back you on that?"

As he hung his head a bit, Brick added with a sigh of defeat.

"Maybe Jo is regretting her actions this season?"

(Static)

"I regret nothing! Those of you who think I'm too cutthroat can suck my non-existent it! Deal with it!" Jo barked at the camera with her arms crossed and a stern scowl on her face.

"Just like I'm dealing with not being Miss Popular with the rubes and losers here. At least B.O. Boots is here to give me a challenge. Why? Because I'm like a muscle. Unless flexed, I get soft." The Jock-ette said in a calmer voice before returning to the earlier, harsher tone.

"And I hate soft!"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As the two athletes began their eight-kilometer run, they both heard something. After looking at each other with looks of horrified realization, the two picked up the pace.

This increase in speed was not fueled by a desire for victory but rather a desire for escape. Passing by a picnic table, their worst fears were confirmed.

They came closer to the sound of slow death and ran past it as fast as their legs could carry them. Even Brick was willing to ignore his code of 'Never leave a man behind'.

"My great, great, great uncle Sinclair invented electricity. Before him people had to harvest animal farts for energy." A voice said.

Though it didn't quite sound like it, hearing this voice left one with the same feeling as hearing a rusty nails on a chalkboard or a fly hovering right by your ear. A feeling of inescapable dread.

At the picnic table, two figures sat. Both were hated by the others on the island but polar opposites.

The source of the slow death sound was Staci, a pet-store parrot in human form trained to say nothing but tall-tale, after tall-tale, after mother-**'BLEEPING'** tall-tale!

Right next to her, sat Scott, a ginger who (in that rare instance of a stereotype actually existing) didn't seem to have a soul.

His normally devious smirk was replaced by a pained expression as he stared out into space as if his brain had been pulled out of his nose with a red-hot metal poker. That actually might have been preferable to him.

Oblivious to her companion's state, Staci did as she always did.

"But he was robbed of the patent when he was called crazy because he tried to say that tissue boxes were the next big things in women's shoes. If only he could have met my great, great, great, great auntie Sophia. She invented shoes, you know?"

Hearing these tall-tales was torture enough but bringing shoes into it was just too much. Scott expression changed subtly to that of a man almost torn. Stuck between death by either a little knife or a big gun. Choosing whether he wanted a quick or slow death.

Hearing a little bit more about Auntie Sophia, his mind was made up. No regrets.

As Staci started prattling on about her great, great, great, great, great grandfather Suchong (he was too far gone to question how the clearly white Staci had a ancestor of Asian descent), Scott without warning slammed his face on the wooden table several times.

He had chosen the quick death.

In her own little world, Staci didn't notice and continued as she once again went to another family member of another generation. Her ramblings were accompanied by the succession of Scott's attempts at a quick death.

"And then there was my father's (**SLAM!**) brother's (**SLAM!**) nephew's (**SLAM!**) cousin's (**SLAM!**) former roommate (**SLAM!**)…"

**Not quick enough!**

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"It seems that the fan base for this show has finally grown a brain. Apparently enough people complained, as they should, that what happened to me was too cruel, so the rich girl's people got me out of that trauma chair after a week." Scott said with a sense of pride.

That changed to disgruntlement in a microsecond.

"But that doesn't make up for the fact that that human jukebox Staci wouldn't stop going on and on about her great, great, great who gives a **'BLEEP'**! Even after I can finally tell her to **'BLEEP'** off, she won't leave me alone!"

He then pulls out a two small light blubs, one red and one green, the lights from his trauma chair.

"But at least they let me keep these lights."

He starts to speak to the lights in his hands in a sing-songly matter.

"Blubs of lights, Staci is which a twit, isn't that right?"

He presses the button for the green light.

The green light blub glows and a buzzing sound is heard.

He speaks again in random verse, once again sing-songly.

"Red and Green in my hands, say the truth…am I the man?"

He presses the button for the green button.

The red light blub glows and a buzzing sound is heard.

After realizing this, Scott suddenly looks at the red light with a look of total shock.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Having not much else to do since Brick went off to race with Jo, Cameron decided to take a stroll through the forest. Though this wouldn't seem like much to most, for someone who spent the majority of their life in a hermetically sealed environment it was a true adventure. Despite the danger, coming to this island was by far the best thing that ever happened to Cameron. He now had friends, self-confidence, 1/13 of one million dollars, and no fear of the outside world.

Besides, after the scare with Dakota and having to deal with Lightning yet again, he was hoping for a little peace and quiet.

He was not destined to find it.

"Yo Cam! Wait up!" A voice thick with accent called.

Turning his head, Cameron saw a by-now all too familiar sight.

Running up to him was Anna Maria, with her very tan skin and black bulletproof pouffe.

"Hello Anna Maria. Is it that time again?" Cameron asked the girl covered in various clothes coral in color.

"Just-a 'bout. Before they come, I want to say that you've been so good to let me be with you when they come. I know ya can't have-a high opinion of me but I thank you."

Cameron looked at girl with the stomach revealing top with a mixture of surprise and graduate.

Aside from Jo, Cameron had the hardest time decoding Anna Maria. Her personality traits and actions during the contest were mixed to say the least. On the one hand, this was the girl who caused his closet friends so much heartache because of her pursuit of Vito. But when Vito wasn't in the picture, Anna Maria showed that she was capable of being sympathetic to the needs of others and civil with her fellow campers.

Despite that however, Anna Maria quickly found herself one of the pariahs of Camp Wawanakwa along with Scott, Staci, Jo, and Lightning. For some it was because of the pain she made Mike and Zoey endure. For others it was because of her abrasive attitude. Either way, Anna Maria was left without a friend on the island.

As a result, the Jersey Shore Reject found herself looking for some companionship. She may not have been the nicest person in the world but she was still a person and as such she needed interactions with others. Of those on the island, the only one (aside from Staci) who was willing to give her a shot was Cameron. Coming from a largely friendless existence and willing to forgive her for her part in the Vito controversy, the former bubble boy was pleasant and accommodating to Anna Maria. Admittedly the two didn't have much (if anything) in common and found basic conversation with each other difficult.

But there was one thing the two had in common. And it was rapidly approaching them.

With the sounds of cameras being prepared and note pads primed being the chirping, the Biblical plague of the modern age, the paparazzi, swarmed on the two teenagers with the same gusto as the true Biblical plague of locusts. Though seemingly out of place in this ecosystem, they truly weren't.

Total Drama Revenge of the Island was a massive success and many people couldn't get enough of it. So much so that many of the less than respectable publishers sent waves of reporters to dig up some material on the teenagers of the hour and misrepresent the hell out of it! Though the most logical choice was Dakota with her struggling against herself, big cash payoffs from Mr. Milton made sure that Dakota's recent problem wasn't in any paper or broadcast on any network. So they went for the next best thing, the contestant who took the game by storm and won.

Finding that they had a common enemy, a certain respect that may one day become friendship formed between the unlikely duo. Having learned from pervious encounters with the press, Anna Maria took the foreground. Remembering how it was Cameron who saved her from the feral Ezekiel during the finale, she now entered the role of savior.

"All right you pasty-faced dirt bags, listen up!" Anna Maria shouted at the many paparazzi, resulting in looks of shock from a few black reporters in the crowd. "Make your questions snappy and hope that you don't get a beat down so bad that you'll be praying for a Staph Infection!"

But something happened that was to Anna Maria's great shock. Despite the previous encounters with the press resulting in prying questions about Cameron, this time their focus was on her and her past.

"Do you still have any bad blood with _The Jersey Shore_ for causing the cancelation your show 'Morons of Marlboro, New York'?" One of the cameramen asked.

"Your goddamn right I do! That bitch Snooki not only stole my thunder but my look! Before me, she was nothing but a no-good flippin' schnook whose only claim to fame was dating a jackass. But after my show aired, suddenly she began using my look. And now she makes $150,000 per episode!" Anna Maria blasted at said cameraman.

Realizing that there was not likely going to be any more earth to till with that topic, the press changed their focus to a more recent scandal with Anna Maria.

"How does it feel to be a shallow little witch who got all gaga over a figment of someone's imagination?"

"Are you truly nothing except a roadblock for a clear as crystal romance?"

"Do Mike and Zoey still hate your guts for all the pain you so cruelly caused them?"

"Were you tripping balls at any point during the contest? Are you tripping balls now?"

For all of her swagger and roughness, Anna Maria found herself looking at the cameras as if she were a deer in the headlights. Though tough as nails, Anna Maria always found herself weirded out by the whole Vito thing and she didn't know how to approach it.

Now it was time for the savior to be saved.

"I can't say about that Jersey Shore thing…but those other questions are really out of line!" Cameron screamed at the flashing lights of the paparazzi's cameras before continuing in a calmer voice though his anger was still noticeable.

"She wasn't the only one who didn't realize that Vito was a separate personality, none of us did. It took me some time to figure it out and I'm super-observant. I haven't asked Mike or Zoey but I'm sure if I did, they would say that that's water under the bridge."

Having hoped for a violent reaction from Anna Maria (like the previous times) but not finding it, the grubs hungry for gossip turned their attention to Cameron.

Though a barrage of questions hit him, the former bubble boy was only able to make out the question of one "reporter" with bright gold hair and a fancy suit.

"Cameron, Rumple B.S. Spinner of 'Grimm Gossip'. People are calling your victory a modern day David and Goliath story. Do you regret not cutting Lightning's head off?"

Though Cameron knew that was what happened in the Biblical story, that question confused him to no end. He didn't know which part of that question to correct first.

"What kind of question is that? Sure I don't like the guy but I don't want to kill him!"

"Yes! I just got tomorrow's headline: 'Dorky David Doesn't Deny Desire to Decapitate Dimwit: "Sure I don't like the guy…"'

As Cameron looked at the suit and tie slime before him with his eyes bulged in disbelief and his mind wondering why every word had to start with a 'D', he began rolling up his right sleeve. That was the final straw! After feeling guilty about Dakota, annoyed at Lightning, and sorry for Anna Maria, he had enough of these pests for one day. Nothing gets the blood-sucking mosquitos away like a good bug zapper. And there was no bug zapper better than…'Kimota'!

With 'Kimota' fully formed, Cameron was poised to rid himself of these parasites. Unfortunately, the paparazzi were well aware of 'Kimota' and were hoping to see it in action. Life-threating technology got more papers sold than pictures of naked women!

"That's right! Strike a pose!"

"Oh. The risk of bodily harm. The flair of the dramatic. Sales!"

"Good, good. Give me angry. The camera loves angry!"

"You're a mad, mad little kitty, aren't you!"

"Come on bubble boy, bring the thunder!"

Notwithstanding the incredible power literally at his fingertips, Cameron was flabbergasted and immobilized by these reactions. With it clear that they were in danger of possibly serious physical harm, all they cared about was getting a good shot!

With both former campers dazed and confused by the cameras, it looked like all hope was lost. But then rescue came in the unlikeliest of forms.

A form that shook the ground with a deafening roar. As the loud and booming rumble continued, the press parasites ever so slowly stopped taking pictures. All were trying to figure out what was producing such a thunderous growl, more especially when they started hearing the force of heavy footsteps on the ground with each step getting a little louder. What was that sound? An elephant's trumpeting? A tiger's growling? An alligator's snarling? It sounded like a mixture of those sounds but greater. What they heard was the kind of roar that should have only belonged to the likes of a Tyrannosaurs Rex. However, thanks to Chris's raping of nature, another life form filled the same niche, the apex predator. But on this island, the top of the food chain was no animal.

From a thick patch of trees, the apex predator of Camp Wawanakwa emerged. It slowly stomped its way towards the many mammals in the area. Each step brought it closer and confirmed its mutated majesty.

Its form was truly massive, at over thirty feet tall; it was more than double the height of the Tyrant Lizard Kings. Rather than scales or fur, the majority of its visible body was covered in the membranes of plant roots. Those membranes gave the being's "tentacles" (which served as both arms and legs) and "neck" a light brown color while small patches of leafs on them added a little dark green as well. What this predator's true body was like was a mystery, as a massive clump of dirt formed what could be viewed as a loincloth without the loins. And then there was the head that resembled a massive dark green avocado with spots of a lighter shade of green except that there was a gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth and large pink lips.

"Larry." Cameron said in barely more than a whisper due to the fear gripping him when the leafy leviathan stopped right in front of the humans.

Though Larry had no ears, it seemed to hear Cameron acknowledge it as it developed a brief but sinister smirk. Then, despite not having eyes, the chlorophyll colossus lowered its head so that it was mere inches from Cameron. Its breath was hot, fogging up Cameron's glasses, even though it had no lungs. Both Cameron and Anna Maria were unable to move as the nightmare of nature issued a low growl that moved its pink lips enough for its massive teeth (over 24 inches long) to be visible. The fear filled expressions of the teenagers was reflected on them.

Despite the notable anatomical handicap of not having a brain, this vegetable was vengeful. Again, although it didn't possess the biological machinations necessary for memory, Larry remembered Cameron humiliating it during the finale and wasn't happy about that. Not one little bit.

But then deliverance came from the deliverance. Without warning, the paparazzi began taking pictures of Larry, much to the plant's evident confusion. While the mutants of the island were always a decent fail-safe for the paparazzi, people were always willing to give more respect, and cash, to those who got good pictures of the predatory plant.

Clearly never having seen the movie _King Kong_, the scandal-seekers continued to take pictures without even considering how the botanical behemoth would react. Similar to the ape over-lord of Skull Island, the king of Camp Wawanakwa was not that photogenic.

The tiny one with the skinny stem and enormous bulb could wait. Right now there were flies buzzing around and remembering the days when it was just a Venus flytrap, Larry thought, _'I think its suppertime!'_

Raising its head, Larry let out a loud roar at the paparazzi. Whatever their zeal for sales-boosting shots, they got the message and began running away at full sprint.

Grinning, as it always preferred prey that put up a fight, Larry pursued the paparazzi after issuing another reverberating roar as if it were a hunting horn. It was determined to make this island a little shop of horrors yet.

Standing there in the exact same spot as when Larry appeared, both Cameron and Anna Maria looked at the fleeing flora and crooked columnists with looks saying, _'Not too long ago, this would have seemed really strange to me'_.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Alright, what is up with ya people? Ever since I got here I've be'n getting hate mail out the ying-yang! Just listen to this one from 'Ren999', around the time when that creepy klepto Dawn was given the boot." Anna Maria said to the camera before pulling out a cell phone and reading the message in the same monotone in which she presented her team's "model" in the fashion show challenge.

'I live in Wildwood, New Jersey and you along with the rest of that fecal matter waterslide known as the Jersey Shore are about as accurate a portrayal of New Jersey as Uncle Remus is to black people. You represent what has become the goddamn herpes of the entertainment industry, you incompetent media cow. I suggest you stop shoving my gal Zoey about and give them two lovebirds some breathing space, girl. Lord knows your hairspray keeps stifling up the air, probably burning a hole in the ozone layer, too.'

Anna Maria looks at the camera shockingly clam…

"**OH, IT IS ON YOU FUC…"**

Though the sound is cut off, the camera still shows the tan-skinned girl moving her arms violently and making some gestures of a highly obscene nature. As this continues, a message from the show's crew appears over the still present image of Anna Maria and it says:

'_Due to the highly inappropriate nature of this rant that lasted at least thirty minutes, we at Total Drama Revenge of the Island will not be presenting it even in an edit version. What follows are the only two bits which could be understood in the firestorm of foul language that seems like what would happen if you crossbred Chris Rock with Conker the Squirrel.'_

"Well, I bet your wood has never gotten too wild!"

"And by the way, Ren, where the Hell is Stimpy?"

(Static)

Cameron looks at the camera with a gaping mouth.

"'**BLEEP'**,she has a dirty mouth!"

(Static)

**End of CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

After that fiasco, both Cameron and Anna Maria parted ways with a sincere goodbye.

Maybe now Cameron could find some much-deserved peace? Just one more hurdle.

As Cameron was walking through the forest, he saw something rather odd.

Strange though it may sound, Cameron knew for a fact that there had been a mountain here. Not a paved road with a sunny sky directly above it.

But then Cameron looked a little closer, more specifically the "sky". The former bubble boy noticed something.

Skies don't normally drip and run, right?

After pondering this for a moment or two, Cameron fought hard to not burst out laughing as he thought to himself, _"He can't be serious! How could anyone fall for the oldest trick in the book?"_

"Gee, it's such a nice day…I think I'll go for a run around this road!" Cameron said in a voice far louder than it needed to be.

As Cameron began to run around the "road", he shouted loudly.

"And the best part is, since I'm the only one around to race, I'm the winner. THE WINNER!"

As soon as Cameron was out of sight, Lightning leapt out of the nearby bushes in a rage as he began to run.

"What! Lightning will show him who's the winner around here! SHA…"

**BAM!**

In his ego-driven rage, Lightning failed to realize that he ran straight into the painted mountainside, the painted mountainside meant for Cameron.

But that realization didn't hit him…until he hit the ground.

"_I'm pretty sure it worked out better for the coyote."_ Lightning thought, amidst the throbbing pain in his helmet-thick skull. But his pride was much worse for wear.

* * *

As Lightning was experiencing Chuck Jones' 11th rule of Wile E. Coyote (that he is "always more humiliated than harmed by his failures"), two much kinder souls were walking through a open plain near the sea-side cliffs.

Ever since returning to the island, Dawn spent the majority of her time traveling through the forest and giving whatever aid she could to the creatures callously corrupted by Chris. Overtime, Dawn became almost a Saint Francis of Camp Wawanakwa, whose purity and compassion was able to tame even the most savage of the island's feral beasts.

Similar to the Catholic saint of animals, the Moonchild found herself surrounded by her winged brethren in nature. But instead of birds of all varieties, Dawn was engulfed in a swarm of Fire Breathing Winged Mountain Goats (funny how things change so much in a mere 900 years). The hovering hooved beasts had been summoned by a hollow horn Dawn found which had fallen off of a young male. True this was a feature normally not found in goats but so is having giant bat-like wings or being able to breath fire.

Dawn was not the least bit freighted by these garish misrepresentations of nature. A few days ago, the same day that she found the hollow horn that she now carried with her always, she went to the mountains along with Zoey and Brick to observe these imposing beasts. While Dawn largely just watched Zoey teach Brick how to ride these creatures as she did during the raid on the McLean Air Mobile Command Center (Chris' blimp) after Heather had commandeered it, that was sufficient for her to realize these goats were maybe some of the least aggressive mutants on the island.

Not having that same knowledge, B looked at the spectacle unfolding around him with some concern. The Strong Silent Genius made sure to stay close to Dawn just in case these furry dragons turned hostile. But B had to (nonverbally) admit that things were going smoothly. Though the teenagers were surrounded, the goats were not acting threating in anyway. It seemed hearing the horn's call made these dangerous beasts very tame and responsive to human suggestion.

Certainly much more so than the flute Sam used to try and tame the giant fire-breathing beetle. But then again the gaming console made better music.

After about thirty minutes of giving them food and checking for any wounds, the goats returned to their Cliffside nests and eggs (another feature not found in goats generally speaking). Having taken care of the creatures of the mountains, B and Dawn headed into the woodlands on the lookout for beasts to revive of some burden.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"B's wonderful! Between his gestures and my aura reading, we comminute without any problem. And that's not easy for him. He was never a very sociable child, being named Beverley really alienated him from his peers." Dawn said before shaking her head back and forth in disapproval.

"Why do we have to be so cruel to one another?" The Moonchild asked herself.

"Anyway, B was able interact with people after being inspired by the films of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. I haven't seen any of their films", Dawn said before letting out a chuckle and continuing, "but if what his aura says is true…then I think I will."

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As they walked through the forest, B couldn't help but notice that the normally cheerful Dawn was being very withdrawn. The big black teenage boy thought this was due to the mutated goats but Dawn's withdrawal continued with them no longer in sight.

Whether it was because Dawn sensed this or simply because she couldn't contain it any more, she spoke.

"B? Can I tell you something? But you must promise not to tell anyone else."

For his part, B merely looked at her for a few moments with a raised eyebrow before it dawned on Dawn that this wouldn't be a problem for him.

"Oh right! Silly me." Dawn said as she lightly chuckled.

As that chuckle died, Dawn's face became one of worry.

"Last night, as I was meditating before bed, I had a premonition. I can't say how or why but I foresee a great woe coming to this island."

B looked at her with a look of genuine surprise. The last thing he expected was for someone as sweet as Dawn to say such a terrible thing.

Sensing B's confusion, Dawn tried as best she could to explain the situation to her friend.

"Ever since we came back the island for the finale, the island's aura has been off. At first, I thought it was merely because of what Chris did to the poor souls living here. But it's been getting worse and worse. The past few days have been overflowing with negative energy."

"Even though Scott and Lightning have been here the whole time?" Asked a voice, a voice that was surprisingly soft, due to it rarely being used.

A moment's shock followed until Dawn quickly remembered that B was not a mute. He was fully capable of speaking but chose not to, preferring to be a Charlie Chaplin for a new generation.

Dawn couldn't help but laugh at this question.

"I suppose so." The Moonchild lightly spoke.

B gave Dawn a gentle but reassuring pat on her shoulder, though his hand was far larger than her shoulder.

Though still convinced that something was wrong, Dawn decided to drop it. Why concern B or the others when she wasn't even sure if there was any thing to worry about?

"Thanks B. Let's go to the Giant Turtles next. Shall we?" Dawn asked her friend.

B nodded his head in approval. He then proceeded to move his lower lip back-and-forth, thus moving his square chin-hair in order to mimic how the Tramp would move his toothbrush moustache.

Despite never having seen a film of Charlie Chaplin's, Dawn couldn't help but laugh at this silly but still somehow sweet gesture.

As their footsteps fell on the grassy ground, Dawn suddenly had a thought she hadn't before. She realized that in their time back on the island, there was only one place in which the aura of the island had noticeably changed for any period of time.

'_Mike?'_ Dawn thought to herself as she and B ventured deeper into the woods.

* * *

While Dawn pondered about Mike, said teenager in baby blue was in another part of the forest. However, he was doing something that was very uncharacteristic for him.

He was hunting.

As he scurried through the bushes and undergrowth, the teenager scanned the area looking for his quarry. This quarry had proven a surprisingly great challenge, escaping his grasp several times already. But the young man with mocha skin was undeterred.

He would get his prize!

As he examined some nearby bushes, he heard something. He heard the faint rustling of low-level tree branches. They were close. His quarry was close!

The black spiky hair on the top of his hand vanished in a cartoony dust cloud of himself as the young male bolted after the source of the sounds. After his quarry.

Not too far away the desired quarry was running through the forest. But what was it?

A deer with three eyes? A bear with a buzz saw sprouting out of its belly? A flying fish that truly flew rather than just gliding like a coward? A squid that swung in the trees like a gibbon doing somersaults? Some matter of land cow? No. What Mike was hunting was just incredible in appearance but infinitely more appealing.

As it scurried through the vegetation, patches not covered in the island's flora offered brief glimpses of the target's features. Running on two legs, it was clearly human. With a bouncing near the chest, it was clearly female. Wearing a short red tube top and tan pants rolled up at the bottom of the legs, it was clearly Zoey.

Sure enough, it was Zoey who emerged from the thick undergrowth to find a very small clearing with more intertwined vegetation all around her. She was as she always was: two small pigtails and a flower featured in her short red hair, a small black chocker necklace around her throat, and tan sandals at her feet. But there were also the more unusual accessories of a bow and an arrow. Just one arrow.

Though a look resembling fear appeared on her face, Zoey stood at the center of the clearing. Closing her brown eyes, the red head let the sounds of the forest wash over her.

There wasn't much to hear. Aside from the almost metallic growl of some unknown mutant, not a sound was heard. Then there it came, the faint pattering of shrubs.

Leaving her eyes unopened, Zoey drew her only arrow and fired it into the woods. Though the swishing clearly came from the North, Zoey fired the arrow towards the East.

Moments after the arrow was fired, a shadow jumped out of one of the bushes facing the North. Still standing on the edge of the small clearing, the figure of Mike was seen.

Though a face-level branch obscured his eyes, Zoey clearly saw a smile on his face. A smile that was trying to appear sinister but came across as corny and overdramatic. Adding to the trite attempt to be terrifying, the boy began moving his thumb and pointer finger over his upper lip as if twirling a non-existent mustache. Despite what Zoey thought before learning the truth about Mike, a method actor he was not.

Proving that point, he spoke to Zoey in a performance stuffed with ham and cheese.

"Soon I will make you suffer large but first you must give me prize!"

For her part, Zoey was merely trying to keep a serious face while also fighting the urge to smile from ear to ear. She had been very successful until this point. It was in this state that she responded.

"I don't think so…" Zoey began before the sound of a loud snap and Mike's startled screams filled the air.

Mike had had his whole world turned upside down in a matter of seconds, literally. As Mike hanged with his spiky black hair merely inches from the ground, his brown eyes looked around to try and see what happened. After having seen the surreal sight of trees with their trunks where their leaves should be and vice versa, Mike finally found the cause of his current position.

A vine that had been looped into a noose was attached to his right foot.

He seeing that, Mike quickly looked at Zoey. The lovely redhead had her bow out and as she was flicking the bow's string she finished with, "…if that's ok with you?" She was still struggling to keep a straight face.

Instantly, Mike grasped what had happened. When Zoey fired her bow, Mike thought it was because she had done so in error. But he now realized that she had aimed there intentionally, to trigger the trap that she then lured him to. The hunter had become the hunted.

As he was just hanging there, Mike couldn't help but lightly rebuke himself. But with his focus still on the young woman who had ensnared him (in more ways than one), Mike didn't care in the slightest.

"That makes ten wins in a row! How's it feel to have your butt kicked by a girl again?" Zoey taunted in a playful manner.

"Almost as good as when I heard what your butt will do to thank me for saving it so many times." Mike retorted, matching Zoey's playfulness with a smirk.

Her face blushing, given it a shade of red almost as great as her hair, Zoey slowly walked over to the hanging young man. She had finally discarded any attempt to hide her feelings as a shining smile appeared on her face and her eyes sparkled just as brightly.

Silently reaching the young man with mocha skin, Zoey collected her prize for victory. With her face still blushing and her mouth grinning, Zoey seized Mike's upside-down face in her palms. Bringing their lips together, the two teenagers felt their mouths melt into each other for over ten seconds before Zoey removed her hands and lips.

Swooned and staring blissfully into space, Mike was speechless for a few moments. As he remained as the boy who can do whatever a spider can, Mike felt himself getting a little woozy. Most would chalk it up to the blood rushing to his head as he hanged like a sleeping bat. But Mike knew the truth; he was crazy about this girl!

"You are so amazing!" Mike said earnestly as he looked up to Zoey.

As he said this Zoey's eyes, now large and dark, glistened as she was touched by the simple yet heartfelt words.

Without saying a word Zoey drew a self-made rock knife and cut the vine. After comically falling flat on his back, Mike was helped to his feet by Zoey.

"Right back at you." Zoey said, as she stood right in front of Mike.

This time it was Mike who cupped his lover's face and brought it to his own for another kiss.

When their lips parted, Mike shot Zoey a short invitation, "Care to aim for eleven?"

"Your on! I believe it's your turn. After I count to ten times ten, I'll get to working so we can get to kissing again." Zoey replied to her lover with a sweet smirk.

After lightly laughing at Zoey's cute little rhyme, Mike turned around and began running while Zoey started counting backwards from one hundred.

* * *

As Mike ran through the forest, he felt himself distracted by the realization of how far he and Zoey had come. When both of them came to the island, they were outcasts. She, a beautiful and sweet young lady who found herself a social pariah without much self-esteem or a friend in the world by a town populated with nothing but jocks and juvie rejects with a collective I.Q. of ten. He, a nice and well-intentioned young man who was afflicted with Multiple Personality Disorder: a condition that can result in any one of several completely independent personalities taking over one's body without any control over what that body does during that time.

Both of them being genuine but isolated individuals, it didn't take long for them to start forming a bond. Despite many barriers, both natural and man-made, the two loners not only found the companionship they so craved but something even greater…a soul mate.

Even more impressive, both of them grew as individuals with the help of the other. For Mike, Zoey's concern for him gave him the drive to finally take control of his many alternate personas and let his true identity shine through…Mike.

As for Zoey, Mike allowed her to see the amazing inner strength that had been buried beneath years of insecurity. Had he not seen the footage of the competition after he left the island for himself, Mike never would have believed it. But after he was eliminated, Zoey had become something that he thought was impossible. A thousand times more awesome! Though concerned that just as he reclaimed his full identity that Zoey might lose hers this "Zoebo" or "Commando Zoey" (whichever you prefer), Mike was glad that the sweet girl he fell for was still there and that she was coexisting with this warrior woman's toughness.

After being reunited following Zoey's elimination, the two couldn't get enough of each other. Whether in conversation or making out, the teenagers acted as if they were joined at the hip. This largely remained the case after the finale. Though both did spend some time with other friends made during and after the show, they were more often together.

Eventually, Mike and Zoey came up with a little game to pass the time and show off some of their skills to each other while keeping the affection thick. The rules were quite simple: one of them would hunt and attempt to catch the other. Zoey would use her recently displayed skills of archery and setting up traps while Mike would use the time-tested method of ambush. Whoever caught the other, got the reward of a kiss from their beloved. So no matter who caught the other both won.

Since both of the sixteen years olds involved had never dated, much less kissed, anybody before, neither were great kissers. But that didn't chance that fact that their kisses gave both of them a feeling of euphoria that they thought was impossible.

And as far as their lack of experience was concerned, Mike was more than willing to practice with Zoey again and again and again!

At first it seemed like Zoey had an unfair advantage (though she still won the majority of these games) but Mike quickly proved to have some skills of his own. Though not fully sure why, Mike found himself stronger and more agile after taken control of his own mind. Cameron theorized that this was because some of the features of Mike's former other personalities now became features of Mike. The evidence seemed to point to this as each prior identity left Mike with some new trait: Vito (physical toughness), Svetlana (gymnastic precision), Manitoba Smith (skill at ropes), Chester (a love of prune juice).

And these were features that Mike was determined to use to his advantage, except the prune juice thing. Though it didn't matter to him who won since a kiss is a kiss, he still would like to win at least once today.

Then, inspiration hit Mike! He thought of a way not only to win but also make Zoey even happier.

* * *

After a hundred seconds had passed, Zoey took off. This time in the role of the hunter.

Following Mike's lead, Zoey listened to the forest and looked for any signs of movement.

There was a rustling! A bush not too far away moved back and forth. Mike had to have gone that way.

She took off, pursuing the sound with all haste. As well as wishing to kiss Mike again, Zoey enjoyed this game because it gave her a chance to use her newly found warrior instincts in a fun way. Not like the last time, when she nearly lost herself to them.

A second rustling in a bush a little further away snapped Zoey out of this thought as she continued to give chase. Even with her last arrow used, she was more than capable of dealing with any surprises that Mike might try.

Once the noises stopped, Zoey also stopped in her tracks. She then listened and looked at the bushes before her for the next clue. To her dismay, the shrubbery was still and silent.

The only sounds came from far above. Such sounds were not uncommon. Laser Eye Squirrels and Teleporting Frogs along with plenty of other mutants kept the canopy of Camp Wawanakwa in a constant state of motion.

Ignoring this, Zoey focused even more intently on her surroundings looking for something not incognito.

But then Zoey found what she was looking for: something out of the ordinary. She found Mike's shirt, spread out on a bush at the base of a large tree.

Paying so much attention onto the shirt, Zoey didn't even notice the weak swinging sound coming from behind her until she felt something force her upward.

Gripped by confusion, Zoey looked around frantically for an explanation as to why she was moving towards the treetops.

She saw Mike, shirtless, swinging on a vine that seemed to come from one of the treetops.

Zoey started to blush a bit. Before whenever Mike had his shirt off, that jerk Vito would take over. But now that Vito was history, Zoey could admire his surprisingly toned chest all that she wanted. Mike knew that she greatly enjoyed seeing him like this.

For his part, in addition to keeping his mind on making sure that he and Zoey were safe, Mike began to blush as well. Though not on purpose, Mike found that one of his arms covered Zoey's chest. Being a teenage boy, one could easily guess what had him blushing.

Fighting his raging teenage hormones, Mike let go of the vine as it reached the zenith of its arch. With Zoey now clinging to Mike's bare chest, the two landed on a very large tree branch.

As awe-inspiring as the sight of Mike shirtless was to Zoey, she found an even more impressive one after looking out from the high tree branch on which she and Mike found themselves.

They saw the island that they had been on for many weeks but there's no way that this could be the same place. The island that they knew was a toxic hellhole populated with dangerous mutants. But this…with its high mountains tops, its vast forests containing flowers of all shapes and colors, its cascading waterfalls and sparkling lakes under the shining sun…it had more in common with the Garden of Eden than Camp Wawanakwa.

Basking in the warmth of the sun's life-giving rays, the lovers looked at each other. The bright light intensified their feelings for each other as it gave their partner an aura of heavenly light. Of blessed divinity.

As Zoey beheld Mike, her focus shifted slightly and a look of concern formed.

"Mike, what happened to your arms and chest?" Zoey asked as she pointed to them.

Taking a closer look, Mike saw what Zoey meant.

Along his arms and chest were several small cuts. As he looked at the slightly curbed cuts, his mind flashed to some bizarre yet somehow familiar set of sights and sounds. The roar of thunder. The flash of lightning. The visage of himself in vines. A pathway thick with thorns. And that voice, that horrible voice so much like his but not.

"_You can't run from me Mike. No more than you could your own shadow."_

"Mike, what is it?" Zoey asked as Mike had been thinking to himself for as few moments.

Snapped back to reality, Mike addressed Zoey's concern.

"I don't know Zoey. Must have happened when I was climbing up the tree."

Yeah, that's what it was! After all, Mike was so focused on experiencing the sweetness of Zoey's lips that he likely didn't notice his arms and chest getting lightly nipped by some uneven patches of bark. Like Mike could have gotten these in a dream anyway? Especially since he didn't even think of it until just now. Besides, in that dream Mike received dozens upon dozens of small cuts but there were less than half-a-dozen.

Being ever the quick-witted young man, Mike found a way to turn this development back to the matter at hand. He began doing so by wailing in a playfully over-the–top manner.

"Ow! Now that you mention it, they do kind of hurt. I think I need some kisses to make them all better." Mike said with a growing smile on his face.

Looking at him with a smile to match his, Zoey slowly crawled her way over to Mike.

"I think that can be arranged. Consider this your reward for finally beating me today."

With that, Zoey started kissing the areas on Mike's arms and chest where he had the small cuts. To say that Mike was enjoying this would be a massive understatement. His face was one of pure, everlasting bliss. After several minutes of staying still so Zoey could play the role of nurse, Mike couldn't remain still any longer.

Leaning forward so that he was now laying on top of Zoey, Mike began kissing her back on the lips. Cupping the back of her head and wrapping an arm around her body, Mike held her to him as they made out, blissfully giggling, moaning, and gasping. Zoey pet his slender, semi-muscular frame in the process.

They lost all track of time or space. Everything else in the world was wiped away forever. All that existed, all that mattered, was these two teenagers making out on a tree branch.

After sucking face with each other for hours, Mike and Zoey were still going strong. There was nothing that could make either of them want to stop this magical experience.

"Uh…Mike…I have…to go to…the bathroom." Zoey said in-between smooches.

**Except for that! **

Though Zoey said so with great reluctance, she could ignore the feeling in her bladder anymore.

With a reluctance to match Zoey's, Mike stopped kissing the girl of his dreams. Both of them climbed down the tree and back to the forest floor.

Once back on the forest floor, the two exchanged one last kiss before Zoey began walking to the bathrooms. Despite Mike saying that he was very willing to wait so they pick up right where they left off, Zoey couldn't help by mentally rebuke her bladder for ending such a perfect moment!

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

**Zoey**: You have no idea how much Mike means to me!

(Static)

**Mike**: You have no idea how much Zoey means to me! After years of being socially isolated…

(Static)

**Zoey**: …there was a part of me that was starting to fear that I might be alone forever. But then…

(Static)

**Mike**: …I meet the coolest person in the world and…

(Static)

**Zoey**: …well, you all know the rest. Despite whatever low points I may have had along the way…

(Static)

**Mike**: … nothing could spoil this experience for me. Nothing.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As Zoey walked through the forest to return to Mike, she heard something. It was a faint cooing, at least that was what she first thought. As Zoey moved closer, she heard more clearly what it was.

It was crying.

Parting a bush, Zoey found the source. She found Dakota, shivering and alone on the ground with her back hunched and facing the Indie Chick. Unlike her first day on the island in the Confessional, the tears she was shedding were sincere and soul crushing.

After being responsible for Dakota being voted off, out of fear for her personal safety, Zoey feared that Dakota might have some kind of vendetta against her. There was no grudge. With both of the beautiful young ladies having a lack of friends, it didn't take long for Zoey and Dakota to start to become 'Ba-Fa-Fa's'. Though Sam was Dakota's rock (and a large one at that), Zoey and Dawn had become additional beams of support. And right now Dakota needed that at least one of those beams.

"Dakota?" Zoey asked.

"Oh hi Zoey! What are you doing in this part of the woods?" Dakota responded, trying to not sound upset. It couldn't fool even Lindsay.

"Hi Dakota. I have just been hanging out with Mike. What are you doing here?" Zoey said, fighting the urge to ask what she wanted to know for fear of upsetting Dakota more.

"I was just waiting for Dawn. It's just about time for our mediation session. I was just, uh, I was just…" Dakota answered, once again strongly fighting how bad she truly felt.

Then Zoey had a sudden thought!

"Was it the dream again?" Zoey asked, taking a shot in the dark about Dakota's sudden concern.

Ever being the skilled archer, Zoey seemed to hit the bull's eye because Dakota instantly dropped any attempt at appearing to be fine and began crying a new strong tide of tears.

"It just keeps coming back! None of my dad's medicine helps! It gets worse each time!"

Zoey approached her recent friend and held her from behind.

As Dakota cried even more furiously, after finally having some support, she could not hold it in any longer. In-between her torrents of tears, Dakota said a few fragments that could be easily understood.

"I still feel his blood! I still…I still see his face! Oh God, Zoey, I still see his face!"

All Zoey could do in response was to hold her friend a little tighter while petting her head.

"It's ok, Dakota. It's ok." Zoey said these words, the only words she could at the moment, as she tried to comfort her friend.

Less than a week ago, Zoey, along with all of the other girls on the island, was present when Dakota had this dream, this nightmare, for the first time. What she told her fellow occupants in the girl's cabin made it abundantly clear why she was so terrified.

* * *

_There is a white room with many pieces of furniture, including a large white couch. On said couch were two teenagers, Sam and Dakota, paying tribute to Eros through the action of passionate making-out (the cross to bear for belief). _

_Their lips were so intertwined as to appear to have been fused. Dakota's eyes were closed as she felt like she was being melted into the joined lips. _

_Even so, a thought was nagging at her. _

'_Do I always have to crane my neck while doing this?' Dakota thought to herself._

_Disregarding this, she went back to handling the gamer's joystick (his tongue, you perverts! His tongue!). _

_And yet, she craned her neck more, more, more, more…_

_Then she felt nothing on her lips. Had Sam grown tired of her affections? _

_Opening her eyes, she found a more alarming sight. Sam was there, but much shorter. _

_In truth, Sam had not become any shorter. Instead, Dakota had grown taller. Over ten feet taller, to be a tad more precise. Sam only came up to her knee now, and his face was one only of confusion. Dakota developed a worried expression on her own._

_This expression lasted for about .05 seconds as Sam cheered and leapt on to Dakota's now much larger lap. _

_After landing between Dakota's (now thunderous) thighs, Sam said something that made Dakota mentally swoon (and a little aroused). _

"_Oh yeah! Just when I thought you couldn't get any hotter!" _

_That was all the encouragement Dakota needed to engage in a second session of sucking face._

_But Thanatos would not be denied! _

_As the lovers kissed, Dakota noticed that craning feeling again. This time she took notice as her body was suddenly surged with pain. _

_Within seconds, Dakota had doubled in height. At over thirty feet tall, her head shot up and slammed into the white ceiling of the room. And she was not showing any sign of slowing down._

_As the furniture of the room was being moved and smashed, Dakota looked down at Sam. _

_He had barely moved with his mouth gaping open in sheer disbelief. _

"_Sam! Run!" Dakota shouted as loud as she could, which was now quite loud. _

_Shocked out of his, well, shock, Sam bolted for the door!_

_By the time he reached the door, Dakota had grown to sixty feet tall. _

_He turned the knob but it seemed to be stuck. _

_Sam put all of his weight and force down on the doorknob. _

_It wouldn't budge a bit. _

_Dakota saw this. Words cannot fully describe the realization that she had at that moment. _

_**Sam was going to die because of her and she was powerless to stop it. **_

_As Sam continued to struggle with the door, tears came running down her face._

_With the massive wall of her body mere inches away from Sam, Dakota put all of her heart and soul into pleading for Sam's forgiveness. _

"_Sam! I'm so sorry! My body's not doing what I tell it to! It's acting on its own!" _

_It was of no consequence._

_As the body he had been embracing moments before started to surround him, Sam tried with all of his might to push away the wall he was being forced towards. _

_It didn't make the slightest bit of difference. _

_With him right up against the wall, Dakota's still growing body eclipsed all of Sam's lower body, leaving only his face and one arm visible. _

_As Sam started screaming in horrible pain, loud popping noises were heard. _

_Still completely visible to Dakota, Sam's eyes and mouth bulged to an inhuman degree!_

_Then, there was the blood! _

_Blood rushing from Sam's lower body, now covering the face of a man at death's door. _

_Only his arm, which was dangling, was the only indication of what the blood once was. _

_That same blood spilled over on to some of Dakota's exposed skin. _

_She felt him._

_She felt Sam on her skin!_

_As her lover's blood gushed forth unrestrained, it quickly filled the entire room. Creating a true red sea. Only one object was visible in the crimson tide. _

_It was the lifeless body of Sam, his face forever frozen as an illustration of cosmic horror. Those bulging, lifeless eyes. That face contorted into everlasting agony…__**by her**__. _

_Where there was once white love, there was now only red death._

* * *

"Dakota? Do you hear me? Dakota?" Zoey asked the former fame-hog.

Dakota sat there, staring into space with water-covered eyes. She heard nothing.

Until…

"Go eat a worm?" A high-pitched voice, from seemingly nowhere, asked.

This shook Dakota out her state of shock and both she and Zoey turned to find Dawn behind them. True to her word, she was holding a wiggling worm between her fingers.

Zoey started at Dawn, totally puzzled. Dakota was the same way.

As the two looked perplexed, Dawn placed the worm in her hand back onto the ground. After gently stroking its head a few times (and hearing the sound of the worm purring), it buried its way back into the dirt.

Dawn, already knowing exactly what was troubling Dakota (she didn't even have to read her aura), addressed her fears.

"Back when you told me that, you were crying on the inside while smiling on the outside. It was agonizing to hear that. Your aura looked like someone threw up all over it. But since then, I'd say it's the brightest it has ever been. The road before you is likely going to be full of hardships but I see happiness at its end. With Sam's hand, waiting for yours."

Again Dakota's eyes filled with tears, though this time the tears were ones of joy.

The twinkle in Dakota's eyes filled Dawn which such satisfaction and warmth. People often think that those who act on Nature's behalf are indifferent to the suffering of their fellow human beings. Dawn thought that was all nonsense. Whether it be in helping a beetle or a human, Dawn loved helping those in need.

Throughout their mediation sessions, Dakota acquired a respect for Dawn that she didn't have before her mutation. Despite it having an adorable squeak to it, something about Dawn's voice had a clam, unwavering certainty. Like she truly knew what the future would hold.

Then Dakota felt a hand on her shoulder.

It was Zoey's.

"I might not know the future, but what I do know is that we'll always be there help you. I'll always be there to help you." The red head said to the blonde.

Dakota then spun around and hugged Zoey so tightly that Zoey thought for a moment that she was becoming the 'Dakotazoid'.

Dakota knew that her concerns were very real and had to be dealt with. But she had hope and love. She had friends. It didn't seem as bad anymore. It didn't feel as bad.

"You're a good friend! Even if your hair is all wrong." Dakota said, still hugging Zoey.

She couldn't help but chuckle at that last part. Though just a chuckle it felt like roaring laughter to Dakota.

This got a chuckle out of Zoey, remembering the first time those words were said and how Dakota was much taller then.

After waiting a few seconds for the small but significant moment before her to play itself out, Dawn was about to address the still hugging friends. She had planned on telling Zoey her concerns about Mike.

But then a higher power intervened, about 10 or 20 feet higher.

"_Attention Total Drama losers and the slightly less loser-ly Cameron. Please report to the amphitheater ASAP. Attendance is mandatory. And before anyone asks, yes, it is now…uh, I mean it is in your contracts. Just as it has always been." _The voice of Chris Maclean said over the island's inter-com system.

This was a bit of a shock to the three young ladies because since that whole contract dispute, the teenagers almost never saw or heard from Chris. None of the former campers complained about this in anyway.

Looking at each other in a shared confusion, the three friends headed over to the stage.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"That was so sweet of Dawn! I feel so bad for Dakota but I don't know how to comfort her when she gets like that. I can't believe I ever thought of Dawn as creepy. Between her encouraging me to not give up on Mike and her helping with Dakota... She's amazing!" Zoey said beaming with glowing graduate.

(Static)

As the female Saint Francis (of Assisi) of Camp Wawanakwa sat with her legs crossed Indian style, she addressed the camera as if it were a priest made of mechanical parts.

"No, I'm really not. I'm just a child of the Great Mother Earth doing her best to help her less fortunate brothers and sisters."

Though she said this in a very a matter-of-factly tone, there was a small amount of joy in Dawn's voice and face.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As the three arrived at the outdoor amphitheater, they saw that most of the others were already sitting down on the wooden bleachers.

At the left-hand corner on the highest set of bleachers sat Scott and Staci. Because it was Scott and Staci, everyone else was staying far away from them. Especially with Staci going on and on about yet another ancestor's unlikely achievements. Sitting there in his own personal circle of Hell, Scott was weighting in his mind the pros and cons of striping down to his bare ass and setting himself on fire. At the moment the pros were winning.

On the right-hand side of that same bleacher sat Lightning as he leered at Cameron out of his broken sense of vainglory.

Sitting a few rows down and more towards the middle was Anna Maria, who was filing her nails while oblivious to the woodpecker drilling at her hair and producing a loud metallic sound.

Brick and Jo sat on the same bleacher though they were a much greater distance to the right. The two found themselves being avoided by the other campers. But this wasn't shocking since they had just finished their 8K run and hadn't had the time to hit the showers before Chris summoned them there. Though a little bummed out by not being around any of his new friends, Brick took the smell as a badge of honor because he finally defeated Jo in a race. Jo took it as a badge of defeat.

And then there was Sam, sitting almost at the middle of the bleachers and looking out into nothingness with his hands on his chin. He was left in an emotional funk after seeing Dakota so miserable due to nearly transforming. B and Cameron were sitting on the bleacher above Sam with one of them on each side of the gamer. B was now trying to do the same chin hair trick that he used on Dawn earlier to cheer Sam up. It didn't seem to have the same effect on Sam as he looked just as crushed as he had been for the past few hours.

Then Sam saw Dakota. His face instantly lit up with a massive smile. Dakota wasted no time as she ran to the gamer and they embraced each other in absolute joy. After leaving each other's arms, the two sat down next to each other. Having sat down, Sam gestured to a spot on his right leg. The same spot where Dakota had been sitting a few hours ago. Once she recognized what Sam was suggesting, Dakota wasn't sure how to respond. While she would enjoy being so close to him, she was afraid of hurting him again. Seeing the hesitation on Dakota's face, Sam simply reached out with his hand in an inviting open palm. The former fame-hog accepted the hand and sat on Sam's leg.

As the two looked at each other with loving eyes, Zoey sat next to the pair while Dawn sat on the bleacher space directly above them in-between Cameron and B.

Zoey began to wonder where Mike was as Chris Maclean, as handsome and raven-haired as always, walked out on to the stage.

Their former and not so humble host looked as if he was about to speak but then he took a look out at the audience. His brows lowered in clear frustration, Chris looked at his watch and began tapping his foot. Something was holding the host back. And that something came into sight from Chris's vantage point.

"Glad to see you finally grace us with your presence Mike." Chris said with a small amount of irritation.

Everyone turned their heads to see Mike running towards the bleachers. Being the furthest one in the woods as he waited for Zoey to return, it only made sense that he would be the last one to reach the amphitheater.

But since this was an understanding that would require empathy, Chris didn't grasp it.

"And now would you kindly just sit next to Zoey the lonely already?"

"Not anymore." Zoey bluntly retorted at their former host as Mike sat next to her. The two then quickly hugged each other for a moment before turning back to look at Chris.

"Ain't that sweet? But sweetness doesn't equal ratings," Chris said before mentally adding, _'But luckily shocking reveals and cliffhanger endings do!'_

"Now then, aside from a few exceptions, this island has been successfully separated from the outside world since this season began." Chris said with a scornful look aimed at Dakota for both the paparazzi and the medical people before continuing.

Having everything set for the little magic show, Chris began a typical Maclean monologue with his trademarked sadistic glee. The fun was about to begin!

"But today, we are going to end that separation. At least partially. A very special guest is here for you, or should I say for one of you. I'll admit that it took some convincing on his part but what he told us might provide more ratings than this previous season. Because of that, let's not waste anymore time and bring out our mystery guest."

* * *

As Chris stepped out of the spotlight (always a difficult gesture), the mystery guest in question began walking onto the stage. As he slowly made his way to the center of the stage, every eye in the bleachers stared at him with reactions ranging from curious to concerned. Despite differing reactions, everyone in the audience did agree on one thing. This guest was a mystery.

Rather than the three thousand dollar suit the teenagers were expecting to see, they saw a figure wearing long full-body robes of blue, the flowing layers creating the illusion of a moving sea. No feature of the figure's body was identifiable under the wearable waters.

But what most sparked the mystery was the figure's face, a mask. The mask of a demon. Though none of the teenagers (with the possible exception of Cameron) could have known it, this mask was similar to the Hannya mask from Japanese Noh Theater in shape. But what they were clear of was the details of this devil.

The majority of the mask had the appearance of black alabaster, a largely shadowy shape with small splotches of chalky white mixed throughout. At the top were two slightly curbed bull-like horns that had jagged and uneven tips. Beneath downward curving brows, one found metallic-looking yellow eyes with large black pupils. But the most eye-catching feature was a leering mouth split from ear to ear with gleaming sapphire teeth.

What compelled the former campers the most about this mask was the complexity displayed by the seemingly stoic and simple. Depending on the angle one was sitting at when they saw the mask and the position of it, the emotion shown varied. Some saw a cosmic clown, as the jaw became one of jest at the same time the eyeballs were ones enjoying some unheard joke. Others beheld a frightening fury as the demon's opened mouth displayed a demonic vengeance while the lowered brow gave the eyes a dangerous glinting. And yet still others looked on a tormented sorrow, as the mouth became a gateway to unrestrained grief and the eyes seemed on the verge of tears. All three realities were there and coexisted behind the superficially stone-faced Satan.

As the devil stood at the center of the stage with those hollow, interruptive eyes looking out at the teenagers looking back at it, the thick click of an unseen machine under the long blue robes was heard.

After the invisible parts of the hidden and unidentified device slowly came to life, a voice was heard. But it was a voice that had been altered, in the same way that former gangsters have their voices distorted when being interviewed by the History Channel.

That voice then said seven words. Saying each word was like breaking one of the seals on the Scroll Sealed with Seven Seals. The Scroll of the Apocalypse.

"_**Sprach Abraxas…**__**Dona Nobis Pacem**__**…**__**Deus Vult.**__**" **_

Most of the teenagers looked at the figure with confusion. But that confusion changed to concern when one of them started to react to the unfamiliar phrases.

**It was Mike.**

* * *

After the last word had been said, the reaction from Mike was as sudden as it was alarming. The teenage boy in baby blue began to gasp and heave wildly. As a look of pure unhidden horror fell on Mike's face, his limbs and spine began to feel as if some unseen force was pushing on them to bend them to its indecipherable whims. As his body seemed to contort itself on it's own accord, Mike found himself sitting with his spine not slouched in the slightest and his hands placed over his knees. Once his mocha-skinned hands were over his knees, Mike's facial expression changed. Where there was once a look of sheer terror, there was now only blank indifference. Though his brown eyes were wide open and unblinking, there was no hint of any emotion whatsoever. It was with this expression on his face that Mike sat as still as a statue.

Throughout this whole ordeal, those sitting in the uncomfortable wooden bleachers just stared at the bizarre and possibly brutal show playing out before them. They were so taken aghast that their glazes were as frozen as Mike's. It was only after Mike remained disturbingly still for a few moments that one of them finally reacted, having what just occurred finally sinking in. Not shockingly, the person who reacted first was Zoey.

"Mike? Mike! You! Who are you? What did you do to him?"

Overcome by emotion and fear for Mike, Zoey ran onto the stage and brought herself right in front of the masked figure, even though said figure was much taller than Zoey. But that didn't reduce any of the uncharacteristic rage flowing out of the normally sweet girl.

Zoey quickly found herself joined by the majority of the former contestants as they verbally assaulted the stranger Satan with exasperated questions and impassioned threats.

Raising a hand to silence the panicky teenagers, the figure dressed as the devil spoke, though the voice was somewhat muffled due to the face-covering mask.

"I know what you must be thinking but rest assured that I have not harmed Mike. On the contrary, I believe I've just saved him. I understand your concern but there is much more at stake than you could know. If you would please follow me, I will explain everything."

Though still fuming with furious fire, the former campers saw no way around this. They couldn't hope of helping Mike without first understanding what the Hell was going on. With searing suspicion, they followed the masked Mephistopheles as he moved from the amphitheater to an unknown location.

There were so mysteries, so many secrets swirling around in air.

Secrets hidden behind two devils dressed in blue.

One present before them with a sapphire smile.

The other hidden from sight with emerald eyes.

* * *

"**Every relationship between two individuals or two groups will be characterized by the ratio of secrecy that is involved in it." –Georg Simmel's "The Sociology of Secrecy and of Secret Societies"**

* * *

**And that's the second chapter. Believe me, I wanted to get this chapter posted much sooner but my summer job has me waking up at 5 am and working 10-12 hours a day in the summer heat on trucks and at many stores without air conditioning. I think you can cut me some slack. **

**Honestly, this chapter has taken much longer to write than the previous one even though that was my first attempt at fan fiction. True its much, much longer (at 54 pages whereas the first chapter was only 10 pages!) but I think I'm pretty sure I know the true reason why.**

**When I decided to actually write this story, I knew one of the biggest hurdles was going to be writing the characters in character. I'll admit that stories like "Candy for Your Thoughts", "Total Drama Comeback", and "Total Drama Action Redux" place a lot of pressure on me because they all did such an amazing job at it. **

**Therefore, I would beyond grateful if those who read this story could leave me a review describing which characters you thought I nailed and which I didn't. Also, even though it's totally up to you, please know that I enjoy reading longer reviews. But I like all types of reviews, long or short. I'm easy that way. **

**Just so everyone is aware of it, this story is going to be anywhere from 9 to 12 chapters long with the majority of chapters likely being closer to the length of this one rather than the first one. However, ****the next chapter will likely be much shorter but it's not as thought out as detailed as this chapter was before the actual writing process. Hopefully this chapter's length and content will be enough to hold you over until the next chapter. Next time we learn about the two demons! **

**So until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	3. A Scrootch Owl

**Author's Notes: Here we are at chapter three. Once again, I must thank those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! I can't express how glad I am that people have enjoyed this story. It really makes me want to do the best I can for you guys. **

**There's not much else to say in this author's note but there is something that I have to bring up. Those who have read the first two chapters know that the people who inspired me to write this story are Strix Moonwing and Akira500 but there is a third person who I've meant to acknowledge but for one reason or another haven't yet. **

**The Kobold Necromancer! If you are a fan of Total Drama and you enjoy fan-fiction, this guy's work is a must! In particular I must praise his stories "Total Drama Comeback" and "Total Drama Battlegrounds". With the exception of Strix Moonwing's "Candy for Your Thoughts", these two stories are easily the very best that Total Drama fan-fiction has to offer. **

**Having said that, here's the third chapter of "Mad Mikey": A Scrootch Owl**

* * *

**What the Hell is going on? **

That sentiment was so thick in the air that it could be cut with a knife. Though it had only been a few minutes since they left the amphitheater, it felt like ages to many.

In that time, they went from the amphitheater to Chris Maclean's private movie theater. As was fitting to a man with an ego the size of Greenland, it was an impressive structure. With the lights on, the twelve teenagers could admire every detail, though they were as unnecessary as a massive movie theater only meant for one person. Many surfaces were gilded in gaudy gold and encrusted with shining jewels. The floor and thousands of seats were draped in finely woven and detailed fabric, clearly made in some far away exotic land, which had a repeating motif of gold overlapping squares on a dark red background. The walls were covered in massive paintings done in the style of the monuments of old Greece and Rome.

These paintings showed many of the classic gods and heroes: Zeus with this his mighty thunderbolt, Poseidon with his trademark trident, Hercules wearing the pelt of the Nemean lion, Theseus with his deadly ball of string, and Perseus holding Medusa's freshly severed head as the Pegasus flew out of the headless corpse of the Gorgon (What the Hell were those Greeks smoking!). Among these mighty beings were many monsters and women that were about to be killed or ravaged, though it was somewhat unclear which would happen to which.

But the centerpiece of the wall paintings was a battle between Athena and Ares. The goddess of wisdom and justice had her blade drawn as it clashed with the sword being held by the god of war and destruction. While Athena's whole body was covered in battle armor, Ares was naked (though thankfully his shield spared them the sight of his Cyclops). Hovering near the goddess' helmeted head was Glaucus, her beloved owl, which in this interpretation was black instead of the browns normally found on owls. Standing behind the god of war with looks of anticipation at the battle to come on their faces were four attendants. But there was a figure that no one could identity, one that was standing beneath where the swords met. As if it was he the gods were fighting for.

Sam couldn't help but feel disgusted as he wondered where the hell Kratos was. He was not the only camper looking at these modern reimagining's of these figures in disgust. Most however were doing so for a different reason.

Though it was clear to those who knew the myths knew who each figure was (everyone except Lightning Anna Maria, Jo, and Scott), their faces didn't match up. Instead, all of the figures, even the women and monsters, all had the face of Chris Maclean. And yet Narcissus was not one of the represented figures?

Looking at the Minotaur right next to Theseus, which also had Chris' face, Jo put into words what everyone was thinking.

"This is some seriously messed up bull-**'BLEEP'**!"

As many of those sitting near her nodded their heads, one was thinking that for more reasons than one. Though Zoey was also unnerved by the unhidden egoism of Chris, she was thinking of far more important things. Like how there were only twelve campers in this house of hubris.

It all seemed so unreal. Less than an hour ago, she was happier than she had ever been in her entire life. She had not only finally found friends but an honest to god boyfriend! And a hot, smart boyfriend at that! Something she thought was as imaginary as the gods and monsters plastered on the walls around her. Or perfect hair. When she and Mike were making out on that tree branch, all of the pain and hardships that she had to endure in her life not only disappeared but also seemed like they never even existed.

But then, a devil, an honest-to-God devil, came out of nowhere and with seven short words did…he did…what the Hell did he do to Mike!?

Zoey could help but remember the fear on Mike's face before it became so cold, so inhumanly still. Zoey's mind hummed many panicked thoughts.

'_**What happened to him?'**_

'_**Is he in pain right now even though it's not showing?' **_

'_**How is this even possible?'**_

'_**Can he ever come out of it?'**_

'_**Why sapphire teeth?'**_

The redhead was so deep in thought that she didn't realize that her eyes were starting to get watery. But the ones sitting closet to her did and each of them held one of Zoey's hands tightly. Realizing this, Zoey looked to her sides and found Dakota and Cameron holding her hands.

Both of them could easily understand the hardship Zoey was going through and didn't like seeing their friend so disheveled. Though she didn't say it, the tinkle in her eyes screamed it at her friends, _'thank you'_. Both smiled at the grateful Zoey.

In about five seconds that tinkle vanished, as Zoey's eyes became vengeful slits. Puzzled at this sudden shift, Cameron and Dakota looked forward and instantly found the reason. The devil in blue had walked out in front of the likely several story high movie-screen behind him. Moments later he was joined by Chris and Chef, both of whom had looks of anticipation on their faces.

The devil then disrobed in front of the teenagers. Before any of them could shout out _'flasher!'_, they saw that he had clothes underneath the cerulean cloth. Similar to what they had been expecting, they saw a three thousand dollar suit. Then the devil removed his mask and revealed that he was just a man after all. Finally exposed to the former campers, they could examine his appearance in detail.

He was a black man who was in his mid-forties. As Zoey noticed when she charged him on the amphitheater stage, this mysterious black man was over six feet tall. Hidden by the flowing fabric of the robes, Zoey and the others didn't notice the decent sized beer-belly that was so painfully obvious now. His face was somewhat chucky, matching his potbelly. It was also wrinkled, slightly more than a man's his age should be. On both sides of his upper lip there was a thin black mustache. His hair, which seemed to be starting to fall victim to Male Patterned Baldness, was also black though there was a faint coating of grey. Despite that, there was bright white hair on both sides of his head that stretched from the bottoms of his eyes to his eyebrows.

Similar to the mask he had been just wearing, it was his eyes that had the most to say. His brown eyes were an enigma. Sometimes, one could make out the faint warm glowing of a compassionate soul. At others they were faded, reflecting a man who had seen so much in his lifetime that most wouldn't believe or couldn't understand. Reflecting a man who spoke to old ghosts and the present possessed. A mixture of serenity and sadness.

The unmasked figure finally spoke to the former contestants. His voice was gentle and aged with wisdom but somewhat distant and clinical.

"Hello children. I'm Dr. Julius L. Johnson, ch…"

The doctor paused for a moment as he heard both Chris and Chef trying to suppress laughter for an unknown reason, at least unknown to all except the doctor. After shooting the two grown men a hard glance for their childish behavior, he returned his attention to the teenagers sitting in the theater seats.

"…child and adult psychiatrist. I apologize for the theatrics. I…"

"Should be apologizing for what you did to Mike, and fix it! Whatever that was!" Zoey interrupted, her anger and confusion still unabashedly expressed.

A look of surprise briefly fell on the doctor's face, but only for a second or so. After letting out a regret-filled sigh, Dr. Johnson addressed this concern.

"Yes, your right. But as I've already said, I haven't harmed Mike in anyway. What you saw out there was an immobilizing mechanism. Its purpose is to insure that there is no shifting of consciousness without my foresight and that '**it'** can't take control."

"And what exactly is **'it'**?" Scott asked with a sneer as he was already becoming bored.

"'**It'** is the reason I am here and why you all had to see that sickening display outside!" The doctor said in a harsher tone to rebuke Scott for his rude demeanor.

"Is **'it'** really hairy or a killer clown that becomes a giant spider?" Jo asked in a mocking tone, clearly not taking any of what had transpired seriously. But she would, in time.

'_Every comment makes me lose faith in their generation.'_ The doctor thought to himself. But was it only their generation that had he was losing faith in? Or had already lost?

It wasn't important. There was work to be done, philosophies and debates had to wait.

Still a little aggravated by the arrogance so far showed to him by these teenagers, Dr. Johnson began his lecture proper after a deep breath of preparation. He was about to being showing these smug adolescents the contents of a modern day Pandora's box, hoping that hope would be there this time. He had to start from the beginning.

"Even as a little boy, Mike showed signs of abnormal psychological behavior. At the time though, it was believed to be a mild form of Asperger's syndrome. None of the various professionals Mike was sent to suspected it was Dissociative Identity Disorder…"

The doctor stopped as he realized that all of the teenagers aside from Cameron looked lost. With a reluctant sigh, the doctor used the layman's term (though he distasted it).

"…Multiple Personality Disorder."

After a largely collective "Oh" from his audience, the doctor continued with a slight annoyance on his part.

"Anyway, as I'm sure you are all well-aware of, young children are not normally the most embracing of groups and as a result, young Mike found himself the victim of constant bullying from a very early age."

The reactions on the various teenagers' faces truly ran the gambit.

Scott and Jo had smirks on their faces. One couldn't be sure, but it would be fair to say they were well acquainted with the issue. Just not from the receiving end.

Lightning and Anna Maria were in a state of largely indifference. True, both could be downright bullies but they often were not. Unless it was in some type of competition, Lightning had much more in common with Gaston than Frollo, being a self-absorbed jerk rather than someone consumed by prejudice. As for Anna Maria, the footage from Total Drama Revenge of the Island showed that she can be reasonable and even sympathetic to others…except when it came to something she wanted.

Dakota's face read as being bleached with guilt. While not automatically the case, it seems that the daughters of the super-rich developed a certain, how you say, bitchy-ness. She had always been the least like a bully of her upper-scale "friends" but she still did some things that she came to regret since being with Sam.

Cameron had a look of concern but also of certain ignorance. Though his over-protective upper bringing had many faults, it ensured that he never experienced bullying first-hand.

B, Dawn, Sam, Staci, and Zoey all had the upmost sympathy for Mike. All five of the teenagers were no strangers to the being branded outcasts by their peers. However, they almost never directly experienced active hatred from their classmates. Instead, they felt the icy sting of indifference and ostracism for their various "social crimes" (having a girl's name, talking about other's auras, obsessive video gaming playing, telling tall-tales, not loving jocks in a town basically run by jocks).

But it was Brick who appeared most effected by this revelation. As Dawn revealed during the season, Brick was often teased as a child. He knew how deep those wounds could go.

After taking in the teenager's reactions, the doctor proceeded.

"It wasn't pieced together until some time later but what was happening to young Mike appears to have been the same sad song that replays itself far too often. His classmates would bully him, his teachers wouldn't get involved out of fear of legal repercussions from the bullies' parents while his own parents were basically powerless to stop it in anyway. Then one morning… **'it'** happened."

The doctor paused for a few moments before pressing onward. When he resumed speaking, there was a hint of tenseness in his until now clinical voice.

"There are conflicting accounts of what happened next but there are some features in which everyone is in agreement about. The bullies who most often tormented him were in one of the school's lavatories beating up Mike when all of a sudden Mike's attitude changed. The previously mild-mannered and timid little boy became violent and exploded with rage. With a strength and speed far surpassing those of a boy Mike's age, **'it'** quickly inflicted great harm upon those who were bullying Mike and any other children unlucky enough to be near **'it'**. It took 12 police officers and 5 Taser shots to stop **'it'**."

Waiting mere moments for all of that information to sink in, the doctor resumed his recollecting of the experience. It now sounded more like a causality list.

"In a space of time less than nine minutes long, 37 children and 3 police officers were injured. Of the injuries, aside from light burses and small cuts, there were: 75 knocked-out teeth, 68 damaged ribs, 29 broken hands, 15 dislocated shoulders, 9 broken arms, 6 broken legs, and 3 damaged scalps.

"The four kids who bullied Mike, those in the lavatory, got the worst of it, however. One had both of his arms and legs broken in several places. Another had a collapsed lung and some internal bleeding. The third had a minor concession. And their leader, if you will, had so many various injuries that he was stuck in a full-body cast for six months.

"**Mike was only eight years old**."

For several moments, the only sounds that punctuated the silence were the occasional gasps of the stunned teenagers. Though this information had unnerved them all, Zoey and Dawn were the most visibly affected.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"I knew Mike must have had a rough childhood with his condition but I had no idea it was ever that bad! Just think **something** in Mike hurt all of those innocent kids! And I'm sure Mike was the one who was punished for it." Zoey said with both shock and concern easily noticeable.

(Static)

"I must admit, I truly did not see that coming. My knowledge of auras makes me very receptive to the pasts of others but Mike's never indicted that happening at all. I've almost forgotten what it was like to not know a person's aura, to experience true uncertainty." Dawn said, her normally unshakable resolve slightly off-kilter.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Unwavering in the wake of the stupefied silence, the doctor pressed on.

"After that, Mike was expelled from that school. I was called in almost instantly after the event to evaluate Mike's psychological make-up and to see what caused this docile eight year old to snap so savagely. After four or five days of interviewing him, something happened which I will never forget."

With that, Dr. Johnson took out of his pocket a tape-recorder and turned it on. As the machine slowly felt a pulse of life, an audible **'KILK'** was followed by the screech of unseen gears. The same sound was heard before the words that immobilized Mike.

But instead of a reformed crack dealer on the History Channel, the voice that came from it was somewhat familiar.

* * *

"_Will you talk to me Mike?" A voice, clearly Dr. Johnson's said. Yet, despite it unquestionably being the doctor's voice, there were noticeable differences. _

_There is a pause before Mike's voice responded. In that time, some of the more observant teenagers listening noticed clear differences between the voice on the tape and that of the doctor standing before them. While indisputably the doctor's voice, the recorded voice was detectably younger and more energetic, more hopeful. _

_When Mike's voice finally did respond, it was a bit off both in vocal tone and answer. _

"_E."_

"_What are yo…Holy __**'BLEEP'**__! Mike, your eyes! There green! Do you have any idea what just happened Mike?" The doctor's younger voice asked full of alarm. _

"_E."_

"_Why the Hell do you keep saying 'E'!?" The doctor's voice even more anxious asked. _

"_You're not saying my full name. It's not Mike. It's Mike-E. __**Mad Mikey**__."_

_After making chewing sounds, like pretending to chew on a carrot, the voice added,_

"…_Eh, what's up, doc?"_

* * *

Turning off the tape-recorder but keeping it out, the doctor resumed talking.

"That was the first time in which anyone realized what we were dealing with, Diss…uh, Multiple Personality Disorder. In this case, an alternate personality that called itself Mad Mikey. I asked it sometime later why it called itself that and its response was, and I quote, 'Because I'm as nutty as a squirrel's ball sack and I'm proud of that.'"

A few of the campers laughed at the statement. They stopped laughing very quickly, but that wasn't because of the leering look the doctor was sending them that they were silenced. Instead it was Staci, the announcer of all annoyance, who was responsible.

"Yeah, that reminds of my great, great, great second cousin three times removed from my father's side Carl. He was always proud of the fact that he was considered insane. Everyone thought he was crazy because he kept instancing that there was a jellybean smuggler in there midst. Well, every one except my great, great, great…"

As Staci was about to put her powers at painful prose into full gear, everyone in the theater looked at each other was if they were staring into the abyss of death itself.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

B is seen as he is slamming his head against one of the Confessional's walls many times.

(Static)

Scott is seen with a truly pissed off look on his face as he flashes the red light from the trauma chair many times and thereby produced it's buzzing sound many times.

(Static)

Dakota is seen with her face looking at the floor with her eyes closed tightly and her hands balled up into fists.

"Don't get angry, don't get angry, don't get angry!"

(Static)

Chef is seen holding a pistol against the side of his head as he shouts at the camera, "Di di mau! Di di mau!"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Taken back by just how unrelenting this verbal onslaught was, it took a few moments for the doctor to speak up. He didn't have time for this nonsense.

"Uh…Staci, right?"

To everyone's shock, Staci stopped talking the second Dr. Johnson said her name.

"Listen, I'm sure there is much in your family's history that is worthy of note. However, I have a lot to say and it's very important that you all understand this information. So, with that in mind, could you please allow me to finish this lecture without interruption?"

"Sure, ok." Staci said in a completely normal and neutral tone.

Everyone aside from Staci and the doctor looked at the stage with the same expression they would have if a three-eyed bear had ran onto the stage and started singing _Peanut Butter Jelly Time_ in a pink ballerina's tutu. What they just saw was even more unlikely.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

Sam looks at the camera truly dumbfounded.

"It was like a cheat code…but it was in real life!"

(Static)

"Praise be to the Great Earth Mother!" Dawn proclaimed loudly with a happy squeak.

(Static)

Brick is seen with his eyes watery and a massive smile on his face. He salutes the camera.

(Static)

Chef is laughing hysterically at the camera as he leans against the back of the Confessional with his left arm behind his head. His right arm is up as he twirls his pistol around his right hand's index finger.

"You people is crazy. What did you think, that I would actually load this…"

The cook abruptly stopped talking when a bullet was fired from the gun. Luckily for him, the now smoking barrel was facing the right wall of the Confessional. Instantly the cocky cook sits up straight still in shock.

With a look of genuine shock on his face and his eyes not daring to blink the entire time, Chef gently placed the gun on the stall with the barrel not facing him as if it were a bomb.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

With that small but impressive display, the doctor realized that he now had everyone's undivided attention as they focused on him intently. Enjoying that, he continued his lecture.

"Having never encountered this before in my entire career, I was fascinated by the fantasied form in this child's mind. After the initial shock wore off, I was so optimistic, so excited by the implications of this discovery. Examples of Di… Multiple…Multiple Personality Disorder as extreme as Mike's are very rare and studying it could make my career. So I advocated for Mike to not face federal charges and instead to have his family move to a nearby town where Mike would be placed under my supervision. Having obtained that, the work of unraveling this mystery could begin.

"But that didn't mean it was going to be easy. At first, this personality had an extreme reluctance to tell me anything about it." The doctor said before pushing the button to the tape-recorder again and producing another **'KILK'**.

* * *

"_So, uh… Mikey, let's talk about a bit about how you feel, shall we?" The doctor's younger voice was heard asking. _

"_Hoho, nope nope_ _nope, don't want to." The slightly off sounding voice of Mad Mikey replied in the dopey manner of someone as high as a bird, as high as a beaky buzzard. _

"_Come now, I think I've been rather patient. It's been three hours and you've done nothing but talk about history, religious dogma, and Looney Tunes. Though you've proven to be very knowledgeable in all of those areas, I would like to hear how you feel."_

_There is only the sound of nothing for a tad longer than there likely should be before the other voice is heard. At least, it had to be the other voice, right?_

"_Uh? What am I knowledgeable in? What are you talking about Doctor Johnson?" Mikey's voice responded. Except that it wasn't Mikey's. It sounded just like Mike though, him as an eight year old. _

"_Is this another one of your…uh…it did it again." The younger doctor's voices said with a defeated exhale._

* * *

Again turning off the tape-recorder, Dr. Johnson added more insight.

"It would repeat that pattern for months on end. I would wait for hours at a time until I could get it to talk about itself…only for it to switch places with a confused Mike. As you might guess, that got very tiring very quickly. I swear if I heard one more Looney Tunes quote I would have lost it!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"So this, Mad Mikey, beat up a bunch of eight years olds and cops, gave the doctor irritation to no end, and likes Looney Tunes?" Scott pondered out loud and paused briefly as he kept pondering silently until he loudly proclaimed his realization of the situation.

"Sounds like my kind of guy! So much better than that pathetic wannabe Zoey humper! Hopefully this personality will replace Mike."

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

"So I reached out to a family friend. As I've already said, what you all saw in the amphitheater was an immobilizing mechanism. What I didn't tell you was that it was curiosity of hypnotist Julio Burromuerto. You might know of his nephew, who won Total Drama World Tour."

"Sha-wait! You mean you know the uncle of that bitch Heather?" Lightning said with some resentment. He remembered the Asian-Canadian who tried to take "his" million. Even if he didn't seem to remember the minor detail that Heather was in fact a girl!

Everyone turned their heads to look at the black jock with looks of confusion. Lightning only responded with a puzzled, "What?"

'_Still unable to determine the differences between the sexes. Possibly based in feelings of sexual inadequacy? Must remember to investigate further.'_ Dr. Johnson thought to himself as he like everyone else, didn't know what to say.

In the void produced by Lightning's confusion, there was a coughing coming from in front of the movie screen. It didn't take long for all to see that it came from Chris Maclean. He had been grinning in anticipation for what he knew would up the ratings but his last reserves were shot. Why couldn't this goody-goody just pick up the pace already!

"Listen doc, as much as we all love hearing about squirrel's ball sacks and previous contestants, I must say…Come on, man! Your boring the viewers at home to tears. Just think of the millions of viewers whose ratings that would increase the size of my paycheck. Think of my paycheck! Why don't we just turn on that projector and…"

"**NO MACLEAN!"** The doctor shouted in an unprecedented display of anger. Despite the doctor being clam and clinical until this point, he had been holding in great contempt for Chris and he was about to let it out.

"Let's get a few things straight Maclean. I don't like you!

"I am at a loss as to whatever factors of nature or nurture made you monster that you are today but I have encountered hardened criminals who would give the teenagers of this show more compassion than you ever have!

"For what you have made the contestants on this show endure, I feel that you should be sentenced to solitary confinement for the reminder of your life. It was bad enough that I had to fight tooth and claw just to be here but I am also forced to present Mike's condition as if he were some kind of bearded lady in a carnival's freak show!

"Therefore, I'm already at my wit's end with you. If you want to get to that precious footage that I had to show for you to agree to me coming here, I suggest that you just stand there and **shut up**!"

After that explosion, there was silence once again as Chris took a few steps back with a look of absolute shock on his face. But that ended with roaring applause and cheers from the former contestants. The doctor in turn bowed to them with a very small smile on his face. Many in the audience still didn't trust the doctor as far as they could throw him (what with him having a potbelly and all) but anyone who chewed out Chris Maclean like that couldn't be all bad.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

Dr. Johnson is seen as he looks around the narrow confides of the Confessional. The look of unfamiliarity made it clear that this was his first time in the Confessional. Then he brought his attention to the camera in front of him.

"Just in case I wasn't clear, I really do hate that man."

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

The black psychiatrist got them back on course very quickly.

"After Julio established that mental override I was able to force Mad Mikey to actually engage in conversations with me. But that didn't mean that the conversations themselves were necessarily useful."

Creating the third **'KILK'**, Dr. Johnson turned on the tape-recorder to play a procession of bits from various interviews with Mad Mikey with the **'KILK's' **being the borders.

* * *

"_Now Mikey, you must admit that attacking so many of Mike's classmates was an example of what not to do, yes?"_

"_Your mom's an example of what not to do."_

"_**DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER!"**_

* * *

'**KILK'**

_The voice of Mad Mikey is heard speaking in a sing-songly manner, except for some reason it chose to sing in the style of a eighteenth century sonnet. _

"_There were these two men in an asylum cell. _

_They escaped and went to the building top. _

_They went by the names of Peter and Tell. _

_One jumped but one was afraid of the drop. _

_Peter used a flashlight and shined a beam._

_He told Tell to cross where it became bright. _

_Tell was afraid to walk on the gold stream. _

_He said, 'Don't let me fall, don't stop the light.'_

_They were combatants in a mental duel. _

_Who is who, a lunatic or a fool?" _

_There is a long pause before Dr. Johnson, flabbergasted, spoke._

"_That's nice Mikey but how does that explain what you think of the weather?"_

* * *

'**KILK'**

"_You see doctor that's when the __**'BLEEP'**__ really hit the fan!"_

_There was a pause. It lasted for several seconds._

"_Is there something wrong?" The doctor asked._

"_Yeah, I didn't say what I meant to say." _

"_What do you mean?" _

"_Could you repeat what I just said, doc?" _

"_Of course. You said, 'You see doctor that's when the __**'BLEEP'**__ really hit the fan.'" The doctor said, resaying what the child before him had said only moments ago._

"_It happened to you too! Do you not see it…hear it?" Mikey asked startled. _

"_Hear what?" The doctor asked, even more confused than before. _

"_That neither of us said the word __**'BLEEP'**__! All that came out was a bleeping sound!" Mikey snapped in confusion. _

"_Come now Mikey, neither of us are on television right now, are we?" The doctor asked, trying to be understanding but having a hard time of it. _

"_No." Mikey said with sense of shame. _

"_Then why would either of us have to have our language censored?" The doctor asked. _

"'_**BLEEP'**__! It did it again!" Mikey said, ignoring the doctor. _

"_Could we please continue with our session, Mikey?" The doctor asked, clearly annoyed at it's insistence on this nonsense._

_For his part, the doctor was once again ignored. _

"_S. H. I. __**'BLEEP'**__! What the Hell? Oh, so I can say Hell but I can't say __**'BLEEP'**__! Who decides this __**'BLEEP'**__!?" _

'**KILK'**

* * *

After turning off the tape-recorder yet again, Dr. Johnson took out some large cards. Based off of the first one visible, the teenagers guessed that they were white with the exception of a large black inkblot. There were ten cards and each was 6 3/4 by 9 inches (18x24 cm for those of you who use the Metric system, aka, not Americans, those enlightened people who want to make everyone's lives harder by refusing to use the same system of measurement as the rest of the world for no good reason).

"Sadly, it wasn't just in straight interviews were Mikey was obstinate. Who here knows what the Rorschach inkblot test is?"

The doctor didn't seem to expect anyone to know because he was about to speak when someone in the audience raised their hand. To no ones' shock (aside from the doctor's), Cameron answered the question.

"The Rorschach inkblot test is a psychological test created by Swiss psychologist Hermann Rorschach in 1921. It uses a person's perceptions of ten very specific inkblots as a way of analyzing their personality characteristics and emotional functioning, in particular when the person is reluctant to describe their thinking processes openly."

Many of those in the audience looked at Cameron as if he had three heads and was doing the Can-Can. They seriously used inkblots?

The doctor looked at Cameron in a similar way, but for a very different reason. Truly shocked that a teenager actually knew that, Dr. Johnson just stood there as Cameron immediately followed his answer with a question.

"But doctor, isn't there a lot of scholarly debate about the validity of the Rorschach test?"

With his dazed state increasing, the black man in his forties addressed the black teenager.

"Yes, right on both accounts. However, there is also scholarly debate about whether Multiple Personality Disorder is valid as well and I don't think anyone here will question whether that is real or not. Uh…Good question though. While it's somewhat expected for answers to be unexpected, Mikey took that to a whole another level. " With that, the tape recorder was turned on yet again.

* * *

'**KILK'**

"_Do you know what this is?"_

_After a brief pause, the doctor resumed speaking._

"_No? Well, it's called a Rorschach inkblot test. Nothing much to it really, it's just some normal inkblots. Anyway, this test is very simple. All you have to do is look at it and tell me what you see. Can you do that Mikey?"_

"_JAWOHL!_ _!" Mad Mikey replied with a forced German accent. _

"_Great, let's get started." _

_There is another pause but this one lasts at least ten seconds._

"_Well Mikey, what do you see?"_

As if on cue, Dr. Johnson held up the first Rorschach inkblot to the teenagers in the theater seats. Most of those who saw this card claim to see a black bat or butterfly (more people say it looks like a bat even though it more closely resembles a butterfly).

"_Mutant Gophers!" Mad Mikey's voice responded. _

Putting down the first inkblot, the doctor picked up and showed them that second Rorschach. It resembled a thick four-legged animal, either a bear or elephant. Aside from the black that constituted the figures, there was some red, which many interpret as blood.

"_Buffalo Testicules!" _

With that, Dr. Johnson showed them the third. Many who see it say it is a pair of humans but it instead looks like one human spilt in half. Some more red, often believed to be blood, seems to confirm that.

"_A pretty butterfly!"_

At the fourth inkblot, the former campers saw what appeared to be a big and somewhat threatening creature that forced the viewer to look at it with a sense of inferiority.

"_Combustible Lemons!"_

"Oh yeah! Burn his house down!" Sam shouted with great excitement before he could catch himself. Though B, Brick, and Cameron now understood the reference, they like everyone in the theater still looked at Sam oddly. The gamer was silenced and looked a bit down until Dakota hugged him. His expression changed to one of joy as he returned it.

As the doctor showed them the fifth inkblot, it felt like that good old Hermann was just going through the motions. For this was another card that most often is said to be a bat or butterfly (even though it looks more like a bat, more people say it's a butterfly).

"_A Bat Credit Card!"_

Having crossed the halfway point of the inkblots, Dr. Johnson showed them the sixth. Many who saw it claimed that it was vaguely similar to some manner of animal skin rug.

"_A Rapping Dog!"_

Next up on the Rorschach chopping block was a truly bizarre shape that many see as being symbolic of women or children despite it being a series of squares forming an almost complete circle.

"_Canadians!"_

Unlike the first seven, the next inkblot was not black anywhere. Instead, number 8 was bright blue, pink, green, and orange. It was most often was said to resemble a four-legged animal that wasn't a cat or dog.

"_Cats and dogs living together! Mass hysteria!"_

The second to the last one was perhaps the strangest one (which is saying a lot actually). Unlike the other nine, there is no commonly held answer for what the Hell this one is. What all who see it agree on is that the color scheme is bright green, yellow, and red.

"_Hitler with a pineapple shoved up his butt!"_

The last inkblot was the most complicated of the ten. Rather than a single shape, it was several blots resembling creatures like blue crabs, pink shrimp, and green caterpillars.

"_Sparkly Vampires!"_

_There is a long pause on the tape until Dr. Johnson's voice is heard once again._

"_Ok. I think that's enough inkblots for today. Now you're just not making any sense. Heaven forbid, sparkly vampires."_

* * *

'**KILK'**

Turning off the tape-recorder as he put the cards away, Dr. Johnson started up again.

"Despite its eccentric nature and apparent abnormal psychology, this Mad Mikey's psychological profile did not match that of the persona who injured almost forty of Mike's classmates. In all of our sessions, there was never any instance were it showed a similar violent tendency. Or any violent tendencies for that matter.

"Still, I had some concerns. I looked over the medical reports of those injured by Mad Mikey and was dumbfounded by something. How could the body of an eight-year-old cause so much damage to so many? Not getting anywhere with the interviews and psychological tests, I decided to some outside tests of my own. Not in the official records. It didn't take me long to realize something. Something so amazing and terrifying that revealing it to the world without hard documented evidence would result in either me or Mike being in a straightjacket for the rest of our lives.

"The closet thing to a preexisting precedent that I could find was that when a bee flies it brakes the laws of physics. In the same way, when under the control of Mike's body, Mad Mikey was capable of doing things that were physically impossible for Mike's body."

Mike's follow contestants looked at the black man with gazes laced with skepticism. The doctor had planned for this.

"Tell me, did no one find it strange that as Svetlana Mike could summon such physical agility and acrobatic skill? Or when ribbing his shirt, Mike, as Vito obtained such muscles? Or when Chester was in control Mike's young body developed the aliments of someone in there eighties or more? Were these very real chances to Mike's body not the result of other, similar personalities?"

After a few moments, the realization of the doctor's absurd notion as proven fact dawned on them all. No words were spoken but much to this effect was said. With that, the doctor continued.

"Exactly. I quickly deduced the source of these abilities was not physical but telekinetic."

"You mean he can move objects with his mind?" Sam's shocked voiced asked.

"No", the doctor replied in a deadpan but slightly annoyed tone. He knew someone was going to ask that question. After that excepted roadblock, the doctor continued once again, "By telekinetic I mean that the source of Mad Mikey's abilities, like the other personalities, is based on its being a mental construct rather than the physical limitations of Mike's body."

The looks of the teenagers being totally lost showed the doctor that he had to explain this a little more thoroughly.

"Mad Mikey, like all of Mike's other personalities, is an independent electromagnetic pattern in Mike's brain, almost resembling a true consciousness. **Almost**.

"Either way, it doesn't possess a body of its own. And therefore it doesn't have the critical biological limits that prevent a person from running so fast or lifting so much weight that bodily injury would result. I can't explain how it happens but when Mad Mikey takes over Mike's body those critical biological limits no longer exist. Not only that, but it appears as if Mad Mikey can make Mike's body can surpass them to an unnatural degree."

After turning to face Chris and Chef, the doctor said, "It's time gentlemen. It's time."

* * *

With that, the doctor pulled out a remote control and handed over to Chris, who had a smile shooting up on his face as he pushed some buttons. The theater went dark and the projector so far above them came to life. As it did, the super-sized screen in front of them began to show them images that were grainy and constantly shifting slightly. They were clearly shot on an old video camera.

_On those images there was a young boy, somewhere between the ages of 8 and 10. This boy had mocha skin and black spiky hair. But the most mesmerizing features of the boy were his eyes and expression. True to what one of the previous recording had told them, the teenagers saw glowing green eyes. But new to them was the expression on his face. Despite it being a massive smile that screamed both innocence and a lust for life, something about it was just a little off. Not much but just enough to be noticeable._

_The focus of the camera changed as the camera began to back away. As it did a very old, and likely broken down, green car was seen right next to the child. Also viewable was the terrain surrounding the kid and car. It was a lifeless looking geography with bright red clay-like soil, large canyons, and no mark of man's influence. _

_After moving a little distance away, a voice is heard, clearly the voice of the one holding the camera. _

"_This is Doctor Julius L. Johnson, recording this footage at a section of the Drumheller badlands devoid of any tourists. It is April 30__th__ 2005, 3:12 PM. And this is trail number nine. After eight trails of gradually reducing the effects of the mental conditioning for a limited time, the personality that calls itself Mad Mikey can move Mike's arms when I say the following phrase…__ '__**Steppenwolf**__'!"_

_With that unusual phrase, Mad Mikey, began moving Mike's arms wildly without abandon. Until that point it had been perfectly still aside from its smiling face. _

_As Mad Mikey did so, Dr. Johnson's voice is heard again as the camera appears to be attached to a tripod. _

"_Please note that Mad Mikey has been in control of Mike's body for over nine hours. I'm about to conduct three tests meant to show the physical abilities of Mike's body when controlled by Mad Mikey. Keep in mind that Mike is only nine years old. If my calculations are correct, you are about to see some serious '__**BLEEP**__'…uh, pardon my French."_

_With that, Dr. Johnson's back is seen as he walks away from the now mounted camera and towards Mad Mikey. The doctor has a long object in his hand as he approaches. _

_Once near Mad Mikey, Dr. Johnson turns towards the camera and speaks once again after making the object in his hand easily viewable to the camera._

"_Please observe that the object in my hands is a __Auto Assault-12 shotgun__, more commonly known as a AA-12 shotgun. Each shotgun shell holds nine pellets."_

_The doctor then takes a few steps away before facing Mad Mikey. _

"_This is Trail 9/Test 1. Ok Mikey. Catch the fireflies!"_

_With that, the doctor fired the shotgun at Mad Mikey at near point blank range. A few of the teenagers in the audience were startled by the loud buckshot blast. But once the smoke cleared, the doctor ran back to the camera and removed it from its tripod. After running back to Mad Mikey, the doctor asked it to show the camera the fireflies. _

_After that strange request, Mad Mikey showed both of Mike's hands to the camera. One hand had five pellets in it and the other had four. This means that while under Mad Mikey's control, Mike's reflexes and hands were quick enough to capture all nine shotgun pellets before any reached it. _

"_Excellent work Mikey! Now allow me to bring the camera and tripod a little closer. Then we'll take to your favorite test." _

_As the Cheshire cat grin on Mike's face grew even greater as Mad Mikey seemed ecstatic about what was to come next, the camera and tripod were moved much closer. _

_The doctor came back into view with the shotgun. The AA-12 was primed and the end of the barrel was place right in front of Mike's face. After waiting a few moments to increase the natural tension of the situation, the doctor spoke._

"_This is Trail 9/Test 2. Pie in the face."_

_With that, the trigger was pulled and the young Mike was shot at point blank range in the face. _

The reactions from the audience were considerably more noticeable than those from the first test. Dakota clung to Sam as Sam clung to Dakota in mutual fright. B almost fainted. Cameron let out a brief but high-pitched scream. Dawn and Zoey both had looks of sheer horror on their faces. All of the others remained silent as they tried to process what they just saw.

But as the smoke began to clear, the teenagers heard something that they never thought they would hear after what they just saw.

**Laughter!**

_Specifically the laughter of the little boy who took a face full of buckshot. With absolutely no physical injuries of any kind and a zealous glee present, Mad Mikey said something that was so bizarre that it could pass for a work of Surrealism. _

"_That was great! Again, again! Shoot me again! I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt hair, and gunpowder, and cordite!"_

"_No, no. We still have one final test to conclude." Dr. Johnson said in a calm manner that seemed just as surreal to the teenagers watching. _

"_Aw shoot! Take all the fun out of life why don't you!" Mad Mikey retorted. If it became any more surreal it would feel like a Dali painting. _

"_After this test, I promise I'll shoot you in the face again." Dr. Johnson said in the same way that a parent would convince as child to go to the doctor with the promise of candy. _

"_JOY!" It has officially become a work by Salvador Dali, melting clocks covered in ants and dead cows being pulled on a piano upstairs wouldn't seem out of place! _

_With the freaky meter firmly set at 11, Dr. Johnson and the still mounted camera went back much further away from Mad Mikey than he had been at any point before this. _

"_Please touch the car beside you and tell me how it feels?"_ _The doctor's voice asked the smiling child in a yell to make for the distance between them._

_Placing Mike's right hand on the hood of the car, Mad Mikey replied by saying,_ _"It feels beautiful, just like the sounds of its color!" _

"_That's very nice!"_ _The younger Johnson's voice is heard yelling to Mad Mikey before speaking to the camera in a normal tone of voice._

"_This is Trail 9/Test 3. If you thought the first two tests were impressive, take a look at this."_

_With that, the doctor's voice is heard yelling to Mad Mikey._

"_Ok Mikey. Flip the flapjack!"_

_With its smile growing even wider, Mad Mikey raised Mike's right hand as a fist and slammed it down on the green car's hood. For what happened next, time seemed not only to stand still but also actually break at what transpired. After producing the sound of crushed metal and glass, the car was sent skyward with great momentum as it flipped from the force of the strike to its front. _

_For over ten seconds, nothing happened. But then, a faint sound was heard from the sky. Raising Mike's left hand as a fist with all of the euphemism of a flowerpot, the car smashed onto the fist. As was excepted, the car exploded violently. After the smoke had cleared, Mad Mikey was exactly as he was, totally un-phased by something that easily should have killed it. Looking at the mangled remains of the car, one could see that the body of the car was split down the middle, as there were two piles of car part. Meaning that Mike's fist went through the car before it exploded. _

_Despite what had just happened, Mad Mikey just stood there with that awkward smile, awkward for those watching it. _

The expressions of the teenagers could be seen in the light of projector. They all had the same expression, that of confusion so profound that the mind couldn't process it. It was as if there brains wanted to scream and blow a fuse while the face matched such frantic activity with dulled numbness. Though they couldn't acknowledge it, the revelations they had just seen were enough to make their brains want to shut down immediately if it meant not having to accept the reality that they now knew existed.

How could there reaction be any other? For there sixteen years of life, they had been taught various sets of principles about the world in each they lived. And here was something that those same principles were incapable of explaining. It's very existence forced one to reflect on how much of what they believed was the truth truly was the truth.

Here was an nine year old who caught all of the pellets of a shotgun blast, who took another said blast to the face with enjoyment replacing pain, who with two effortless strikes forced a car high into the air and broke it in half. Everything that they knew about the world shouted at the artifice, at the impossibility of what had just happened.

And yet, the film kept rolling on, indifferent to the feelings and perceptions of those watching it. After a minute or so of seeing those green eyes gazing in to them and that smile which seemed both sweet and strange, the twelve teenagers had to confront the actuality of that which unhinged the conventions of reality. It existed, that was certain.

What other discoveries might lay ahead? What else might they unhinge?

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Ok, now I'm listening." Jo said bluntly to the camera with the awe of what she saw still detectable.

(Static)

"Let me put to you this way," Sam said, "If Mad Mikey was a final boss that I had to fight, I'd be as scared as a blue Pacman ghost!"

(Static)

"Ok, so Lightning has been lost this whole time but damn! Lightning's got to get him some of that MPD! Looks like just what Lightning needs to become a true MVP!" The black jock proclaimed, ignorant of everything else that had been said or seen.

"I wonder if it comes in a bottle or pills? Do you take it through the butt?"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

After such earthshattering events, all of the former campers were at first unresponsive to when the footage that continued to roll on until they heard the doctor's loud protest.

"**MACLEAN! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?"**

With his copyrighted smugness and sadistic glee, Chris answered the enflamed doctor.

"Oh yeah. I forgot to mention, I had my interns go through your footage and they came across this little gem. Something this special has to shared, doctor Long."

As the doctor's face froze at the name, he looked at the screen in sheer terror.

_As the camera showed the doctor at a less than respectable establishment, the thick black vapors of cigar smoke and the incoherent babblings of the intoxicated were present. Currently the black psychiatrist was slumped in his seat at a table with many empty beer bottles around him. When he raised his head to speak to the camera, something was clear: he was drunk off of his ass! _

"_Well I never would have guessed it. I've interviewed serial killers. I've talked down veterans with PTSD on a shooting spree. Never needed a drink. But then, I saw it!" _

The campers wondered what could bring such a man to find solace in the bottle.

"_The vampires. They…they sparkled! __**Oh God they sparkled!**_

_The doctor almost started to sob but was able to hold it back before continuing. _

"_I'm not sure how much of this I can take! As if I haven't dealt with enough in my life as it is. Sure Mikey was as loopy as a loon on LSD but he wasn't the craziest one I've encountered. Don't even get me started on that section eight __**Izzy**__!"_

The teenagers in the audience shuddered a bit at the mention of that name. They all remembered the impulsive redhead in the giant spider costume.

"_Mikey? Izzy? Why do all of the crazy ones end their names in y's? I blame the sparkly vampires!"_

If their focus weren't so strongly on the screen, the teenagers would have seen Dr. Johnson's expression change from one of panic to one of unbridled anxiety and terror. He realized what was about to come next.

"_I hope your happy mom; I hope you're proud of your Julius Long Johnson! __**LONG JOHNSON**__! You certainty did me a service, didn't you? You made my name, my life one endless penis joke…just like Freud's!" _

_The drunken doctor then burst into tears for a few moments before recomposing himself. But when he did, the sadness he felt was replaced by anger. _

"_Well, mother, I'd hate to burst your little bubble but it's not long. It's not! Yeah, I said it! __**I'm all testicles…with no**_ _**shaft!**__ What happened to my shaft mother!? Can you answer me that mother you shrill, shrieking fraud! No you can't! You can only do what you always do. Go suck a big fat, big hairy di…" _

For whatever reason, the film suddenly stopped before that sentence could be finished. Contemplating the existence of God for the first time in years, Dr. Johnson remained perfectly still with an facial expression that said he would have preferred to have been horsewhipped with a horse or placed before a firing squad than have that footage broadcast for all to see.

When the lights came back on, not a sound was heard. Even the crickets were content.

It was unknowable where it started but then there came a booming laughter from everyone in the audience. They laughed even harder than they would have otherwise before learning about that "tiny" truth due to the fear of what Mad Mikey could do dawned on them. But for these few precious moments, that didn't matter.

That didn't mean that Dr. Johnson was pleased. Not able to face their joy filled faces, the doctor put on the demon mask that had been beside him this whole time. Though its expressions were still open to personal interpretation, the sad expression seemed fitting.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL **

(Static)

"In my defense, I think my reaction to Twilight was among the more reasonable and restrained. And for the record, I so freaking **hate** that man!" Dr. Johnson said as he switched from false calm to festering anger.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

After several false starts at continuing with the lecture due to the teenagers bursting into laughter whenever he tried to speak, the doctor put them back on the path of the serious.

"Furthermore, there is good news and bad news when it comes to the abilities of Mad Mikey. The good news is that those abilities are limited to physical strength, speed, and durability far surpassing those of Mike himself."

"That's the good news!" Jo's voice full of alarm protested.

"Yes, it is. And the bad news is that the longer Mad Mikey is in control of Mike's body, the greater those abilities become and harder it gets to stop.

"I've seen it's potential only in very limited doses, the footage that you've all just seen for yourselves. Though those doses show that if in control of Mike's body for long enough, Mad Mikey could, in theory at least, develop unlimited physical capabilities."

"You mean this Mad Mikey can become like Superman?" Brick asked. He had certainly been impressed and disturbed by the footage but he prayed that it couldn't get that strong.

Dr. Johnson would prove his prayer false.

"Except imagine Superman as a psychologically unstable teenager with a eccentric, unpredictable nature. Even though it never showed any truly psychotic tendencies, the risk of what might happen if Mad Mikey got control again was far too great."

There was an uneasy silence until someone finally voiced their take on the situation. Sadly though, that person was Scott, who was sitting right behind Dakota.

"Oh that's just dandy! So first we had to worry about the atomic bombshell here", as Scott pointed to Dakota, "going nuclear every time she cracks a nail or has her period. And now we not only have to worry about Mike being a fried chicken short of a church picnic but also a walking, talking H-bomb!"

But that was not the end of it. Lacking any concept of sensitivity, Scott continued for a few moments as he insulted Dakota by comparing her to this 'thing' that called itself Mad Mikey and talking about her as if the mutant side of her was her true self.

As Scott continued slandering Dakota, she was getting visibly upset. As much as she wanted to shout at Scott to shut up, she didn't. Fearing that if she got angry, 'it' would try to escape again. The pervious experience was still fresh in her mind and it haunted her.

And yet while that same ghost of the past haunted Sam, who was sitting right next to Dakota with Scott in the row behind him near his left arm, it moved him to a different course of action.

With absolutely no warning and still facing the doctor with an indifferent expression, Sam moved his left arm in a fluid motion towards the source of the slander. In mid-insult (about how maybe Mad Mikey wouldn't be a threat if Dakota would have sex with it), Scott's face was hit by Sam's fist. **Hard! **So hard in fact that Scott fell to the floor and was out cold.

For a few seconds, there was silence, a silence broken by roaring applause from the majority of those present. But the real reward for Sam was seeing Dakota smile at him before giving him a long, passionate kiss. After the kiss, Sam looked at the joyful faces of his friends. But then he saw a sight he wasn't expecting to. Dr. Johnson, who before this point had been largely clinical, had a faint smile on his face as he nodded in approval.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

Scott is seen with a huge shiner over his right eye and a truly displeased look on his face.

"I did not just get beat up by a nerd! By an angry video game nerd! No, no, no, no, no! Soft serve just got a lucky punch. That's all that was, a lucky punch! I would have easily given him one to match, if he wasn't planning on banging the goddamn She-Hulk!"

Scott then briefly dropped his evident ire and developed an odd smirk.

"This must be how Duncan felt after that runt Cody got a lucky punch on him in Greece. Now there is a pro. He not only won a season but he scored two fine pieces of ass. Corrupting one, leaving the other broken, destroying a friendship… that guy is my hero!"

(Static)

Sam is seen staring at his own fist as if he's trying to figure out how it works before bringing his eyes and attention to the camera.

"I still can't believe I did that. I don't even remember thinking of doing that. But I guess seeing Dakota, the most amazing girl on the face of the planet, so hurt just made me snap.

"Cody and Harold must have felt something like that before they each K.O-ed Duncan. Now those are two guys who I would death match with any day. People may call us nerds but I prefer the term intellectual badass, though they are likely smarter than me, haha."

(Static)

"Though it's not exactly in keeping with my profession's code of ethics when one teenager assaults another, I'll admit it was good to see that punk put in his place. I've dealt with the damage caused by people like him for my entire career. Some people's lives have been ruined beyond repair. I can't even tell you the worst examples in here. But I wish I could." Dr. Johnson said before his expression changed to a worn out and sorrowful one that seemed very fitting somehow.

"As men grow older, they become naturally reflective. Observing that which they cannot fix with an increasingly intense gaze. Sometimes the only way to soften the staring into the soul is to share it with others, even if they are a soulless collection of cogs and gears."

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

"With findings so extraordinary, the world had to be told; lest it be taken by surprise by the new creature in its midst. But then, when Mike reached ten years old, slowly four new presences began to appear. Similar to Mad Mikey, they all gave themselves monikers with meanings that made sense only to them: Chester, Manitoba Smith, Svetlana, and Vito.

"It's truly amazing but Mike's subconscious actually tried to **correct** Mad Mikey." The doctor said, placing extra emphasis on the word "correct".

"What do you mean, **correct**?" Dakota asked, possibly out of a desire for a solution for something that needed "correcting" in her.

"You see it appears that after creating Mad Mikey, Mike unthinkingly created other alternate personalities just to weaken Mad Mikey due to the fact that Mad Mikey could take over Mike's body at literally any time that took its fancy. When you look at the other personalities in Mike, they are all roadblocks that made it more difficult for Mad Mikey to be released a second time.

"Chester, for example, is triggered when Mike gets angry. And it was anger that gave birth to Mad Mikey and that allows it control the easiest. Svetlana is an Olympic level gymnast who is triggered when Mike or someone Mike cares about is in danger. This was meant to both allow Mike to flee before Mad Mikey could get out and to reduce the likelihood of Mike getting anger. And then there's Vito, triggered when Mike's shirt is ripped. It would be reasonable for this to happen when Mike was both threatened and in a situation which might bring out Mad Mikey.

"So, as you can see all of the…"

"Wait a minute, you forgot Manitoba Smith? How does a cowboy from Australia who's triggered by Mike wearing hats help?" Cameron asked, finally finding a loophole in the doctor's absurd theories. They were absurd in the sense that they explained things too well.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know. Given that this all was literally unprecedented I think I'm entitled to a little slack for not having all of the answers. Besides, psychology is a very messy field of human study. One of our icons was obsessed with cocaine and penises, for crying out loud!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"And that's why even as a bubble boy, I wanted to be almost anything else…except a psychiatrist." Cameron said with a sense of vindication.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

"In any event, after all of the personas you know of were created, Mad Mikey all but disappeared. I knew that it was still sulking in Mike's skull but in over three years it never made a single attempt to take control, not even in situations meant to bring it out.

"I debated whether I would still reveal the truth of Mad Mikey but I decided that it was best to keep it a secret. After all, it appeared to be rendered powerless and there was always the concern that others would still try to lock Mike away out of the fear of what **could **happen.

"With the truth known only to me, I was so confident in the state of affairs that I convinced the local school to allow Mike among their student body by the time he was thirteen. And there had not been a single issue or indication of Mad Mikey's existence." The doctor continued.

"If that's the case, then why are you here now? What's the problem?" Dakota asked.

"Mike took control over his other personalities." Someone said who had until this point been silently absorbing the doctor's lecture. It was Zoey.

"Exactly my dear!" The doctor proudly proclaimed before continuing.

"When Mike conquered his other personalities, he unknowingly removed the mental fail-safes keeping Mad Mikey in check. And as footage captured by this island's countless cameras proves, Mad Mikey has resurfaced and taken over Mike's body almost every night since the finale ended."

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"That would certainly explain the fluxes in Mike's aura. But that doesn't explain everything. There may be much more to this than any of us realize." Dawn mused to the camera with that innocent yet matter-of-factly tone of hers, and yet with some small amount of concern.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

"So, what does this Mad Mikey want?" Zoey asked. Finally saying aloud the one of the key question that had been plaguing her mind throughout the doctor's lecture.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't have the slightest idea. It is for that reason that I must do something far more risky than I would like." The doctor replied.

"What is that?" Dawn asked, she knew the answer but had to hear it for herself.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, recoiling in horror at the mere thought of what he had in mind.

"I'm going to talk to Mad Mikey, with all of you present."

There was silence, for how long no one could say.

"What the '**BLEEP'** are ya saying, doc!? After everything you just told us, your putting us in the same room as that super-powered section eight!?" Anna Maria said putting into words the shared sentiment of communal disbelief.

This earned her a sharp gaze from Zoey who responded.

"Mike is not a section eight!"

At least, she thought so…

"Correct again. I know it's hard to grasp but when we go to Mike, it won't be Mike were talking to. We won't be talking to a person.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't absolutely certain that you all would be safe. In the nearly two years worth of interviews and tests I conducted with Mad Mikey, it never once showed any dangerous behavior. Besides, until I say the needed words, Mike's body can't so much as twitch. Not only that, but when we talk to it I will make sure it can only move Mike's face.

"Please try to understand, it's been six years since I last spoke to Mad Mikey. I have no way of knowing how powerful Mad Mikey's hold over Mike is. That's the reason why I had to wear this Halloween costume, just in case Mad Mikey tried to take control at the mere sight of me.

"I'm hoping having all of you around him will give Mike enough will to stop Mad Mikey if it tries anything. Since one person he cared about calling to him seemed to allow Mike to prevail before, I'm hoping have everyone he cares about doing so will have a similar but greater effect."

With that, the doctor took out a rolled up piece of paper before saying.

"Before I bring you to Mad Mikey, I have a small list of factors which I have proven to increase the possibility of it become more energetic and therefore potentially dangerous."

Letting the rolled up paper drop, it fell to the floor before continuing to roll beyond the sitting teenagers and going far from sight.

The former contestants let out a collective moan.

"This was going to be what death feels like, isn't?" Sam asked. Some of those listening to the list would get a much more accurate understanding of that feeling before the day was over.

With that comment ignored, the doctor began reading off the mile long list.

"If it asks you to give it a number between one and ten, eleven is a only correct answer."

"Don't use the word club in any context because it will retort with 'I have half a mind to join one and beat over the head with'"

"Never under any circumstances accuse the quirks of Mad Mikey to just be Groucho Marx jokes."

Staring even more confused after that last one, the teenagers simply were silently doing there best to withstand the torrent of "factors" as they became increasingly absurd.

Somewhere in-between the validity of implanting goat gonads to increase a person's sexual ability (It doesn't!) and the debate about whether Han Solo shot first (He did!), something happened. No one noticed it.

It is perfectly understandable why no one noticed it. While they were all in the theater, Mike's body was in the much smaller lobby area.

It lasted for less than a second but the immobilized body of Mike gave a subtle smirk.

Behind eyes as large and unmoving as an owl's, **'it'** was stirring.

The demon was about to take flight.

* * *

"**A hoot owl bangs into the roost and knocks the hen clean off, and catches her while she's falling. But a scrootch owl slips into the roost and talks softly to her. And the hen just falls in love with him, and the first thing you know, **_**there ain't no hen." **_**-Senator Huey Long as quoted in Alan Brinkley's Voices of Protest**

* * *

**And that's the third chapter. I have to admit, I'm not entirely pleased with this one. There's very little character interaction and I'm not sure if I captured the characters in character as well as in the second chapter. But I suspected that this might be the case. **

**While writing this chapter, I often thought of the Nostalgia Critic during his review of "Casper" when he and the titular friendly ghost sing, "Exposition, exposition / Rush it out A.S.A.P." This chapter is basically just telling the campers (and by extension you, the reader) the abilities, backstory, and mindset of Mad Mikey. Please leave me a review telling if you think this chapter is something better than just that or not. Either way, it's my hope that this chapter gets you hyped up for the possible places that the story could go based off what is revealed in it! **

**So, let's talk for a second about Dr. Johnson and Mad Mikey, the only original characters in this story. My main models for Dr. Johnson were ****Tenzin from "Avatar: The Legend of Korra" and Detective William Somerset from "Se7en". He was meant to be portrayed as a clinical and worn down but still decent person. I won't say that much about Mad Mikey except that for this chapter the main model was Izzy with a bit of Looney Tunes, Groucho Marx, Gir, and Deadpool thrown in for good measure. As always, your thoughts on these two characters would be great. **

**Next time…we finally meet Mad Mikey! **

**Until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	4. Come and See

**Author's Notes: And we arrive at chapter four.** **Once again, I must thank those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! And yes, I'm putting this at the beginning of every chapter because I can't thank you all enough. **

**I apologize for this chapter taking so long. For some reason, for the first two or three weeks after posting the third chapter I could barely write anything. I have to once again thank my good buddy Akira500 for helping me end the worst case of writer's block I've ever had and for a few smaller episodes that happened recently. Also, I have begun the search for a more permanent job and working on my prospects for graduate school. Both of these things have also taken up a lot of time that would otherwise go to this story. Once again, I apologize for how long this one took. **

**There's not much that I want to say in this starting author's notes but there is one thing that I must make clear. This is the chapter where we meet Mad Mikey, where the dark really starts. While this story is still rated T, there's a part near the end that is M. When I say M, I mean seriously M. I'm talking therapy causing, emotionally numbing, hard enough to shatter diamonds kind of M! **

**If so, why I'm I keeping the story at T? Well, I think the story as a whole is still a reasonable T and that part is only dialogue instead of actual actions. However, since I value everyone's psychological well-beings far too much to risk them being damaged by me, I will have the section that is hard M indicated by it being in-between bold markers saying: "Warning: The Dark Is About To Start!" and "Warning: Darkness Done…For Now!" This might not be needed but I'd rather not take that chance. You'll just have to come and see for yourselves.**

**A quick aside: I LOVE the quotation that closes out this chapter so much that it's the reason why this story is all **_**Watchmen**_** like with closing quotations after each chapter. **

**Having said that, here's the fourth chapter of "Mad Mikey": Come and See**

* * *

"Avoid any debates about whether Jesus or Buddha would be better at Ping-Pong.

"Do not question the claim that the reason why books rarely speak to the masses is because they are too tongue-tied.

"Never challenge the claims that Jane Austin wrote about zombies or that Abraham Lincoln killed vampires.

"Sidestep any discussions about how beavers have a better democracy than ants because they have nicer buildings.

"And finally, if 'Rosebud Frozen Peas' are brought up do not refer to them as being full of 'coun-try goodness and green pea-ness'" (say the first and last words out loud).

With that, Dr. Johnson began rolling up his list, missing the irony of ending his long list on a short subject (at least for him).

Finally looking up from the list for the first time since he started reading it, the doctor saw the many teenagers in a horrific state. It almost appeared as if they were about to be literally bored to death. Most of them looked as if they had just seen the tape from _The Ring_. Many had their eyes bulging in unblinking stares while there mouths were gaping open. So much so that Lightning didn't even notice the fly that flew into his.

Of the twelve teenagers, the only two who didn't have this look were Cameron and Zoey. The winner of TDROTI avoided this state because he was use to absorbing great amounts of odd information but he did find himself tested now in a way that no book ever had. As for Zoey, it was her overpowering concern for Mike that kept her focused on the seemingly endless stream of absurd conditions.

Then again, was what the doctor just said any more unlikely than Mike have a secret personality since he was eight years old that could become so powerful that it could make any superhero its bitch (except for Batman because he's Batman of course)?

With an expression similar to the teenagers (if not more so), Chris violently shook his handsome head to get back to reality. Walking towards the center of the stage, Chris stood next to the doctor as he addressed the teenagers.

"Uh…thank you doctor. That was…stimulating. We only have one or two more things that have to be taken care of before we bring to Mike. While waiting, why not go to the Confessional and make your thoughts known to the masses. Would likely be a good way to get some stuff off your chests."

While everyone doubted that Chris honestly had their well being at heart, many decided that this wasn't a bad idea. Many had long since lost track of the list being read to them but their minds were ringing loud as thunder with activity the entire time. Some did have a lot to say about what they had learned.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL **

(Static)

"Am I concerned for Mike? More than you can imagine. Am I afraid of Mad Mikey? No, not really. I'll admit I'm a little nervous but he's a part of Mike after all. How bad can he be…uh, it be? The doctor told us that Mad Mikey is not a he." Zoey said in a largely hopefully manner, with bits of uneasiness sprinkled throughout.

The lovely redhead then began tapping her chin with her right pointer finger while contemplating on the last bit that she said.

"While its true I guess that Mad Mikey's not a person, something doesn't seem right about that. Maybe I'm just thinking about this too much?"

(Static)

"Personally, I don't give a kitchen rat's ass about Mike. But I'm likely to at least get a good laugh or two out of Mad Mikey. So I'll just sit back and enjoy the spectacle." Scott said in a manner more fitting to seeing a movie rather than something that could very well determine the fate of another.

(Static)

"I might not have fully understood everything we were told but something I do understand is that you never leave a man behind. And right now it seems like Mike has not only left behind but trapped in enemy territory." Brick said with confusion comingled with certainty.

(Static)

"Thirty minutes…. thirty minutes…" Jo said in an uneasy clam as her fingers were drumming along the stall of the Confessional. That uneasy clam quickly changed to rage.

"That man with no dick had us listen to him ramble on about Ping-Pong and 'pea-ness' for thirty **'BLEEPING'** minutes! This Mad Mikey better be something special or I'll have to test if he's as small down there as he claims with my sneakers! If only they were steel-toed cleats!"

(Static)

"Needless to say, I'm greatly concerned for Mike. He was my very first friend after all. But this Mad Mikey also astounds me to no end. Nothing in any of the countless psychology books I've read could have prepared me for this. I'm hoping that talking to Mad Mikey will allow me to obtain the information needed to help Mike regain control." Cameron said in a voice expressing concern but showing bits of excitement occasionally.

After sighing in guilt, the former bubble boy added, "After all, it would be nice if I could help out Mike better than I could Dakota."

(Static)

"Mike and me almost never interacted during the competition but thanks to my friendship with Zoey I've gotten to know him and he's a great guy. Also, I almost feel like we are kindred spirits." Dakota said, only realizing the possible implication of that last statement after saying it.

"Don't get me wrong, he's no Sam or anything! It's just that my…uh, recent condition…has made me very sympathetic to Mike's situation. I would be so lost without the friends I've made here and I'm sure Mike's the same way. Mike will not be alone while I'm around…AS A FRIEND!"

(Static)

Anna Maria looks at the camera before her with uncharacteristic worry.

"Wow, I mean wow. Just when I thought Mike couldn't get any loopier. This is a lot to take in all at once, ya know? I'm not-a doubtful person but I'm a little concerned 'bout how this day can turn out well."

Interrupting her expression of doubts, her cell-phone began ringing with the song _'That's How The Shore Goes' _as the ringtone. Anna Maria answered it in a totally neutral tone.

"Yo AM here…um…I see…huh…are ya sure…uh, ok…thanks…catch ya later."

After closing and putting her phone away, the Jersey Shore Reject turns back to the camera.

"I have just been told that _The Jersey Shore_ will no longer be on the air. I don't know what say except…YES, YES! **SNOOKI IS GONE!** OH, it just makes me tingle all over! YES!"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

Back on the stage, Chris, looking somewhat reluctant about it, handed over an object to Dr. Johnson. The object in question appeared to be either a small walkie-talkie or portable radio transmitter. There wasn't enough time to determine which it was or its other features as the device was placed in one of the doctor's pants pockets.

While this device was revealed and transferred, the teenagers in the audience had moved their attention away from the stage. Whether they sat alone with their thoughts or offered words of comfort and reassurance to each other, the twelve former contestants didn't hear the doctor calling out to them at first. However by the third or fourth attempt, the teenagers turned to the black man in his forties.

"There's just one last thing that I need to clarify. I have my suspicions that Mad Mikey will have no desire to speak with me at all or anyone else unless they are alone with it. If it comes to that, are any of you willing to talk to Mad Mikey?

"Remember, it will be incapable of doing anything but talking to you and you can stop the discussion with it at anytime. The rest of us will be in a room behind the snack bar, we will be able to see everything through a camera. As you talk with it, I will be able to judge it's mental state and how great a hold over Mike it possesses. And with that information, I can determine what is necessary to repress it once again.

"Please don't feel like you are obligated to but if you do desire to speak with Mad Mikey, please raise your…"

The doctor didn't get a chance to finish that statement because a hand shot up into the air. Immediately afterward, two more appeared, looking like rapidly sprouting flowers to the doctor. Partly because all three hands were right next to each other, their owners sitting right next to each other. As the look of shock on his face and the minor annoyance of being interrupted once again wore off, the doctor was not shocked by the identities of those who were willing to talk to Mad Mikey: Zoey, Cameron, and Dakota.

The three didn't have to say why they wanted to, it was obvious to Dr. Johnson. Zoey and Cameron wanted to because, whether it was as a boyfriend or a friend who just happened to be a boy, Mike was their first savior from years of isolation. As for Dakota, she likely felt great pity for him now that she knew the slings and arrows of having a second personality inside of her. Perhaps she was also hoping that confronting Mad Mikey would offer some insight or means to dealing with her other self?

Either way, the former fame-hog was getting looks of concern from Sam. Dakota tried to turn her head and ignore these looks but she couldn't, she valued Sam too much for that.

"Sammy whammy," Dakota said as she turned around to face with the gamer sitting behind her, "I know your worried about me but this is something I have to do. If I can't face something inside of someone else, I can I expect to face something inside of me?"

Then taking Sam's hands into her own hoping to soothe his apprehension, the blonde added, "Besides, just like the doctor said, all it will be able to do is talk. Nothing more. There's no way it can harm me."

Although Sam knew that what Dakota said was true, he was still nervous about this. But he also knew it was her choice and not his. As much as he didn't like this idea one little bit, the gamer with the brown Jew-fro forced a small smile and nodded his head. Reaching over the seat, Dakota gave Sam a big hug that the gamer returned in earnest.

Turning back around towards the stage, Dakota saw Dr. Johnson, looking conflicted. Even though the doctor was one hundred percent sure that no harm would fall on any of the teenagers sitting before him, the exchange between Dakota and Sam added to preexisting feelings within him, mainly guilt. Guilt at having to ask these teenagers to shoulder this kind of responsibility, at having them forced to put a friend's well being in their inexperienced hands.

But it could not be helped. There was no other way, as much as he hoped for one. Mad Mikey was averse to talking to him back then. And six years of isolation likely didn't make it any more receptive to him. But maybe it would be to others?

So, with his head slightly bowed and his eyes closed, Dr. Johnson spoke with a voice of reluctance searching for answers but not finding any that soothe the nerves.

"Its time, children, its time. Cameron, Dakota, and Zoey in the front. Let us go to Mike."

* * *

With that, the doctor walked off of the steps leading to the stage for the massive movie screen behind him and began moving past the former contestants in their theater seats.

Chris and Chef followed close behind, with looks of joy on their faces contrasting the solemn expression of the doctor's. Having finally worked their way through the doctor's dumb red tape, they would finally get to the good stuff. The only thing that got more ratings than naked women or life-threatening technologies was a charismatic wacko who makes the Mad Hatter or Daffy Duck look like a beckon of restrained rational thought!

As the mass of adolescents began rising from their seats and walking from the theater into the lobby, their faces had far more in common with the doctor's than the other two adults. This was because many a mind was roaring with activity. Though it was a short walk, to many it felt like they were traveling to some uncharted new continent. What would they find inhabiting this new landmass of the mind? A noble savage living in a Eden of eternal sunshine within a spotless mind, a heathen less than human at home in a dark forest of wordlessness?

With heavy thoughts still gripping their heads, the teenagers stepped with heavy feet towards their absent friend. As they left the red fur-like floor of the theater, they began walking on the white hard tiled surface of the lobby. With every step on tiles of bright and expensive marble, an echo was produced. An echo that sounded like the processions reverberating out of some immense drum, like the beating of humanity's collective heart.

That heartbeat from the feet also belonged to the doctor, who found himself succumbing to the cold, death-like dread he thought was exorcised nearly six years ago. Oddly enough, this dread was not felt while Mad Mikey spoke through Mike. It came afterwards, like how one feels the push and pull of the ocean's tide in their bed after a long day at the beach. Before, this dread was solely connected to this very possibility, to a slain dragon (even a harmless one) not staying slain, not staying repressed. But now since that feared risk became factual reality, a set of new trepidations trickled into his mind.

'_What can of worms are we about to open? Why can't the past just die and go quietly without fuss? How many times must my mistakes and failures haunt me, torment me?'_

Of the teenagers, the ones closet to the haunted and tormented man leading them were Zoey, Cameron, and Dakota. It was, oddly enough, the member of the trio the most concerned of the most concerned who had her attention diverted for a few moments. Zoey, looking at the doctor walking in front of her, noticed that he had a bad gimp in his right leg. The limited space on the theater stage and her concern for Mike when the doctor was wearing that devil costume must have prevented her from realizing this sooner. Then she noticed something else after looking away from the hoppling doctor. While Chris was still walking behind Dr. Johnson, Chef seemed to have disappeared.

The redhead didn't have much time to judge this as the object of her focus appeared. Mike appeared!

In a room almost entirely adorned in shining white, the darker colors of Mike contrasted well. Even though Zoey was still too far away to see Mike's face, his mocha-skin made concealment impossible.

Zoey couldn't explain how but then the reverberating beatings became louder, lower in tone. She tried to ignore this and pressed onward.

Getting closer, Zoey realized that Mike was sitting in a chair, without restraints of any kind. No leather strips or metal bars were needed when the muscles under mental conditioning were restraint enough.

Pondering this, the processions blasted away even mightier. Zoey almost thought for sure that she was hearing a drum instead of heavy feet falling on the floor. She ignored it.

Moving ever closer, Zoey saw the face of her beloved. As wide-eyed and indifferent as when she last saw it. A familiar feeling of worry came over her but not as strongly. Knowledge had illumined the unknown behind this mask of muscle.

**How little she actually knew**. **How little was truly illumined.**

Her worry was merged with that primal procession, professing something vast. In her worry, Zoey did not realize that Dr. Johnson had stopped walking and walked right into him. Falling to the ground, the red head almost didn't notice what the doctor was saying.

"What the Hell is this nonsense?"

Standing back up, Zoey looked in the same direction as the doctor and was thinking the same exact question.

Everyone's eyes turned to see Chef standing behind a large drum, pounding on it with equally large drumsticks. The drill sergeant turned cook turned drum player didn't seem to realize that he was found out because he kept on banging in exactly the same manner. Only about thirty seconds after his being uncovered did Chef notice the eyes watching him. After one last dramatic drum solo, the beating was finished and the black cook simply pointed a finger at Chris.

In a manner matching the spectators of a tennis match watching the ball as it moves back and forth, every set of eyes in the lobby (minus Mike's) turned to the raven-haired host.

"What? Everyone knows that beating drums plus walking equals tension. And tension equals ratings…" Chris said in a smug know-it-all manner before changing his tone to one of an almost religious awe, "precious, glorious ratings!"

'_My God, every single word out of this man's mouth has been about ratings and money. He truly does have the morals of a pimp and the manners of a organ grinder's monkey.' _ Dr. Johnson thought to himself. The doctor wouldn't have found any disagreement among the others present in the lobby, even Chef.

Turning his attention away from monkey pimp in TV host clothing, the black doctor faced Mike, faced the unknowing vessel for the demon. With everyone present and ready, Dr. Johnson began saying the words that would bring Mad Mikey to the surface for all to see, even if they would only see it through a glass darkly. Again, it was words that would accomplish this achievement, this time six instead of seven. Dr. Johnson began a second incantation based in science and psychology instead of sorcery.

"**Derkesthai Übermensch****…Dona Eis Requiem…Sempiternam." (1)**

* * *

If the septet from before was the revelation of forbidden knowledge through the unsealing of God's scroll, the sextet now being spoken would be proven as the emancipation of Satan through the unhinging of Hell's maw-like gates.

As the gates unlatched, Mike's body began twitching. At first it was confined to his right shoulder but in a matter of seconds it spread to Mike's entire body. At the climax of this twitching, Mike's neck flexed and his head was raised before returning to its original position. When Mike's neck and head were as they once were, mocha-skinned eyelids eclipsed the brown of Mike's eyes. Along with brown eyes now shut, the neutral expression previously seen disappeared. What replaced it was face contorted into a frown, an angry frown.

For several moments, the face did nothing. Mike's eyes were not opened and his mouth did not move. All that changed was the heaving of Mike's chest, fueled by heavy breathing. The type of breathing one would imagine hearing from a man who had been forced underwater and would have suffocated if left submerged for any longer or more likely the breathing of an infant fresh from the womb, the breathing of one who is breathing for the first time.

After a few gluttonous gulps of oxygen, Dr. Johnson decided that it was time. The man addressed that which wasn't a man, which wasn't human.

"Mad Mikey?"

Hearing the sounds of the mortal plain through Mike's ears, the eyelids parted. Underneath them was shimmering and pulsating green, an unnatural bright green.

"Speaking…" The persona said in a low, ominous raspier. The voice of Hell.

But then the voice became much lighter. The frown became a smile, jolly yet unsettling. After making chewing sounds, pretending to chew on a carrot, the voice added.

"…Eh, what's up, doc?"

Dr. Johnson shuddered at the reference, the same reference it would every single time they began a session. The doctor had been praying that would have changed in the time since there last discussion. That was not to be so, but something else had changed.

Not knowing this, the doctor began the damned dialogue.

"I was going to ask you a very similar question, Mikey? After all, it's been a long time since we last talked to each other, hasn't?"

"Five years, nine months, two weeks, six days, twenty hours, thirty-six minutes, and forty…five seconds. But who keeps track of such petty details, right," Mad Mikey said before adding in a very convincing German accent, "Dok'tor Dick!"

The "dok'tor" groaned in clear frustration as the teenagers burst into a round of laughter. Aside from the obvious reason why, it was because Dr. Johnson had spent a lot of time making sure that none of the audio clips he showed the teenagers had that appalling title. Yet another feature that the doctor wished in vain to have disappeared.

"By the way… "dok'tor", good job on the Halloween costume. It did a very nice job of tucking away those gargantuan _**guttiwits**_ of yours. If only it could pump up your pecker so you could get a proper _**panhandle**_, eh?

"And the Hannya mask was very scary, a very nice touch. But did the store tell you that you were dressing up as a jealous Japanese lady demon? Maybe Chef's not the only big black guy around here who likes to be a sweet transvestite?"

This earned the shadow of Mike an angry growl from the black cook and the black psychiatrist. But Mad Mikey wasn't finished yet.

"Also, very classy. Having most of those fancy words being Latin and all. Ah, Latin! That **dead** language that speaks to the inner most truths of mankind…and by that, I mean it's the filthiest and most profane. For example, I'd wager that it's been a dog's age since the good doctor here has had good _**futuere**_with a _**futatrix**_**!** Far more likely, he's often had _**cēveō**_with another's _**mentula**_ right up his _**cūlus**_!"

'_Oh, how I want to get him one in the __**cōleōnēs**__, if he has any __**cōleōnēs**__! __Suck on that English based censorship!' _Mad Mikey thought to itself, with the obsession with censorship remaining.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"In addition to Mad Mikey's annoying little nicknames for me, I also had to worry about not using segments of our recorded interviews that the teenagers wouldn't be able to understand." Dr. Johnson said to the camera before adding more light to the subject.

"You see, occasionally Mikey would for no reason use words from other languages even when speaking mostly in English. Before it would only use terms from two fictional languages: Newspeak from _1984_ and Nadsat from _A Clockwork Orange_. But now it seems that it has added Latin to that list, even though it never used Latin before.

"Come to think of it, I don't recall Mikey ever saying that it ever actually read either book. Just like how it knew so much about history and Looney Tunes despite being always repressed in Mike's young mind. How does it know so much?"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

"So Mikey, since it's been so long, what have you been thinking about this whole time?" Dr. Johnson asked the repressed personality, trying to ignore the long insult just said.

'_Oh you'll find out soon enough you before this __**afterlunch**__ you pathetic pretender! And I'll savor the look on your fright-filled face. But for now, best I keep up this vaudeville show __**real horrorshow**__.' _ Mad Mikey thought to itself before answering the question.

"Well, Not So Long John, I've been racking my metaphorical brains out over the issue which has plagued all sentient life since the dawn of time. Let me ask you doctor…have you ever pondered the spiritual meaning of croissant rolls?"

And that is what began what would prove to be the most insanely idiotic rant that any of those in the lobby would ever hear. The doctor's few pitiful attempts to bring this rambling incoherent response to some level of reason only highlighted just how far away it was from anything that could be considered a rational thought. With willful abandon Mad Mikey hopped between topics as diverse as the Greek goddess Aphrodite and her "magic sex clam" to how Wolfgang "I'm-Da-Anus" Mozart lacked the "common courtesy" to finish his requiem (because he died before being able to finish it).

As Mad Mikey conversed (if you could call it that) with the doctor, the teenage witnesses to this dialogue of the bizarre noticed something. The voice at the exchange's center was both familiar and out of place. Those in the lobby of Chris' theater easily were able to tell that the voice they were hearing was coming from Mike's vocal cords. The vocal patterns were practically identical. But there was something hidden behind the kind accent of Mike.

It was soft yet powerful, like the tread of a stalking tiger. Uneasy, some of those listening could hear the predator, prowling around the perimeter of the conversation. And yet it was as vague and uncertain as a striped silhouette in the darkness.

It was fleeting at best but at certain words one could almost make out a gravelly bass that was bordering on a growl. Zoey couldn't help but think of Mad Mikey speaking like a slumbering dragon. Though it was clam, there was some fire churning behind concealed fangs.

And it was not only in voice by which one could tell something was rotten in Denmark. Ever since Mad Mikey began speaking, Dawn was trying to decipher this being's aura. But she was having an unusually difficult time of this. Its aura was so muddled, so fractured. At moments she would detect something, some impulse or thought, and in the very next the polar opposite.

Scudding into its mind, vast and smothering, Dawn heard something else. Something that was breathing deeply in anticipation behind the slightly altered voice of Mike. There was a hunger there, one that would be revealed as truly terrible. She heard the juddering heart of a building storm but swirling green storm fronts prevented her from hearing more.

"And that is why the spiritual meaning of croissant rolls is that they are **delicious**!" Mad Mikey said to close out its lecture. Sadly what it said in its mind right afterwards went unheard for the simple reason that none of those listening were mind readers.

'_I can't believe that I ever actually acted like that, that I actually thought like that. All __loosey goosey like. __Funny thing that __**oldthink**__, isn't? But it will be worth it, it will make the flowing of the __**krovvy**__ all the sweeter.' _

"But enough of these causal pleasantries my professor with the petite penis. Why are you here now after so much time has passed?" Mad Mikey said in a very direct, almost forceful manner. A hint to the wings starting to shake the dust off of them.

"Uh…well, Mikey, because cases as complex as yours don't come around very often. I've been spending much of this time looking at the few preexisting precedents there are so I could determine the best course of action to resolve the tension between you and Mike." Dr. Johnson said, initial shock giving way to clinical training.

'_My, my. So professional and banal, so mocking and insincere. Why not just say the truth: 'I was hoping that you were gone for good but you just couldn't rot away in that Neverland, could you?' Same song, different tune.' _ Mad Miket thought to itself before replying to the doctor.

"Let's make things all nice and sparkly clear. I have no interest in talking to a Johnny come lately but more especially to a Johnson come lately. As I'm sure you always do. I've got about as much a desire to hear your whys and wherefores as I do the planet Mars' opinions on religious tolerance. Though I must admit that I do fancy the opinion of the planet Uranus that it is **YOU** who is the true anus!"

"I sadly suspected as much Mikey. But surely you have noticed the collection of new faces behind me, yes?" Dr. Johnson asked before lifting an arm as if presenting the teenagers and adults behind him.

"Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of so many surprise visits from this set of strangers?" Mad Mikey asked, playing coy.

"Come now Mikey, we both know that you have been able to see what Mike sees. You know exactly who they are, recent friends of Mike's."

Mad Mikey simply nodded Mike's head but added in it's mind, _'Yes, this dirty dozen is known to me. Also known to me is that when this day is through, they won't be dirty. They'll just be dirt. Well, __**ashes**__ technically.'_

"A thousand pardons and **appy polly loggies** to you O my brothers and breasted ones. Allow me to introduce myself all proper. Mikey Mad is name my. Freaky being enjoy I." Mad Mikey said, intentionally saying the parts of its "introduction" backwards.

Surveying those around it, the "dirty dozen" plus the even dirtier pair of Chris and Chef, Mad Mikey looked for one face in particular. Given the small size of the room, it didn't take long.

Though it was still getting use to having true eyes, eyes in the real world, Mad Mikey knew the face of its target quite well.

In the time since Mike arrived at Camp Wawanakwa, his dreams followed a rhythmic yet monotonous pattern: Zoey, his fears of Vito, Zoey, the regretful times Chester took control when he was in his youth, Zoey, his favorite action movies, Zoey, Zoey's face, Zoey's personality, Zoey's body, Zoey's bu…well, you get the idea.

Being trapped with no other means of entertainment, Mad Mikey became a frequent speculator of these dreams and as a result, it got to know the face of Zoey quite well.

Mad Mikey had to see her for itself; no one could be as amazing as Mike dreamt of Zoey as being. It had to be self-delusions to compensate for years of social isolation and an ever-increasing load of teenage hormones.

But then it's green gaze drifted over to Zoey, who was standing in the front of the crowd of teenagers behind Dr. Johnson. It saw her at last!

Those same emerald eyes grew wide with surprise. Truly taken aghast, Mad Mikey now understood why Mike valued her so much. There was the face of beauty, and not just the fickle beauty of the flesh. But a deeper beauty, born out of the best angels of our nature.

Having Mike's jaw fall open, Mad Mikey, calling on the most human part of its un-human mind, found the words to express its admiration for this glory of glories, for this heavenly testament to the eternal majesty of God's creation…

"**HOLY MACARONI! **Woo-woo! Raaayyyerrrr, raaayyyerrr! E'E, E'E! Purr, pant-pant-pant-pant, urf-urf, awouu, ababebebebebebe! Hubba, hubba!" **(2)**

Everyone else in the lobby was unable to figure out what to make of this, looking at each other with eyes filled with confusion.

"Oh, sorry for the confusion my little **droogies** but I was just admiring the lovely redhead in this room, and I don't mean Scott. Even though he's not too lovely now is he?" Mad Mikey said with a smile, receiving an angry groan from Scott and laughter from everyone else.

Once the laughter subsided, Zoey asked, unsure of how to feel about this, "I assume that you mean me then?"

"That is correct my red-hot redhead. Like Dok'tor Dick here said, I've been able to see what Mike has seen and so I've had the honor of seeing your face often. Your all Mike thinks about and his thoughts of you were a far better alterative than the endless egocentric babblings about how things were better in Chester's "day" or Manitoba Smith still crying his metaphorical eyes out over the that **'BLEEPING'** Crocodile Hunter!

"Ok, seriously, nobody else heard that? None of you heard a loud bleeping sound just now instead of the word **'BLEEP'**? Nothing, any of you? Really? Even though it just happened again!?" Mad Mikey asked the others in the lobby, who looked at each other like everyone suddenly grew three heads.

With a look of genuine shock on Mike's face, Mad Mikey sighed before saying, "O. K. Sorry about that Zoey. Any who…I don't think you fully understand how much little, old Mike cares about you."

The look of small happiness on Zoey's face betrayed what Mad Mikey added mentally for no one else to hear, _'which is why you must __**die **__first.'_

Dr. Johnson watched this little exchange and wondered. Mad Mikey seemed to be extremely open with Zoey and why made a lot of sense, plus Mad Mikey not only apologized for its idiocracy but also actually continued despite it. He got to thinking, '_Maybe Zoey talking to Mad Mikey will be enough to get the data that I need?'_

"Well Zoey, since you two seem to be hitting it off, why don't you be the first to talk to Mikey?" The doctor asked the redhead.

Though its expression on Mike's face remained exactly the same, Mad Mikey was practically singing both _Hallelujah_ and the _Ode to Joy_ at the top of its nonexistent lungs at the same time. This had been what Mad Mikey had been figuratively praying for: talking to Zoey right away so it could begin the "**bliss and heaven**" immediately. It knew all it had to do was share a few sentences with her and the doctor would unknowingly led the lamb to the lion's den.

But just like another instance with a lion's den a long time ago, there was an intervention. This time though, it wasn't in the form of an angel of God but a 'Ba-Fa-Fa' instead.

"Actually doctor. If Mikey has no objections, I would like to the person for the first one-on-one." Dakota said as she began moving towards Mike's sitting form.

"I don't see why not. What do you think Mikey?" Dr. Johnson asked.

Once the blonde was standing right next to Zoey, she waited for Mad Mikey to respond. Mike's face didn't change in the slightest. Though in actual time it only took a few seconds for Mad Mikey to do so, its mind was a furious hurricane of activity in those few seconds. With "furious" being the key word.

It had all been so perfect! Mad Mikey had been able get the doctor to unknowingly go along with its plan and Zoey certainly would have been game after sharing that complementary information about Mike with her. But now, if it tried to get Zoey to be the person talking to it, Dr. Johnson might realize that something is up and not allow it.

Mad Mikey had two choices at this moment: lay its cards on the table or play a few hands before the main event? Even though it had a **burning** passion to begin already, it wanted to savor this encounter. Besides, talking to some of the others first might not be a bad idea. It would be like picking from trees bearing apples all their own before reaching the forbidden fruit of the holiest of tress. And the first tree seemed to be gold and green, bearing oversaturated fruit ready to burst

"**Doubleplusgood**! Like I could deny a request from such a lovely young lady." Mad Mikey said as it bobbed Mike's eyebrows at Dakota.

"Very well. We will leave you two to begin. And remember Dakota, we will be able to see everything that happens and you can stop at anytime." Dr. Johnson said as he brought over a chair for Dakota to sit in.

With that, after strong embraces from both Sam and Zoey, everyone except for Dakota left the lobby and entered the room behind the lobby's snack bar.

As they left, Mad Mikey couldn't help but think to itself in amusement.

'_The doc actually thinks he's in control. That he's the ringmaster of this spook show. How sad that he can't see the reality of the situation, but that's how he's always been. Besides, what good is a spook show if the spooks themselves don't have the reins?'_

* * *

As the fifteen humans entered the room behind the snack bar, they realized that there was barely enough room for all of them. Somehow they managed to fit with an amount of space left that is usually only felt by canned sardines or _Tetris _puzzle pieces.

In these crammed confines, everyone huddled around the single monitor that was connected to the camera watching over the theater's lobby. Surrounding this screen was a series of odd looking devices that seemed to gauging different things like changes in Mike's breathing, heartbeat, and brainwave activity among other things (likely to help the doctor obtain the data he needed). As they looked at the screen, they saw two pairs of green eyes staring at each other only a few feet apart. The eyes that shined conveyed confidence while the pair covered in natural human wetness reflected nervousness.

That same nervousness was in most of the human eyes in the room behind the snack bar. But it was the most abundant in Sam's eyes, which were unblinking in concern and focused at the monitor screen like a laser beam. The gamer was so focused that he didn't notice the finger weakly tapping on his shoulder. After a few more powerful pokes, Sam finally looked away from the camera's live feed and saw Cameron to his side. Retaining his abilities at observation, Cameron easily figured out the reason for Sam's worry.

"I know your worried about her Sam but Dakota is one tough cookie, a lot tougher than I would have thought at first glance." Cameron said to Sam, receiving a scoff from Jo.

After giving the rude Jock-ette a hard leer, Cameron continued talking to Sam.

"Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to make the amount of progress that she has when dealing with her condition. All they can do is talk and what we can gain from that talking can only help her and Mike in the long run."

"Thanks Cam. I really needed to hear that." Sam said to the former bubble-boy. Though still clearly concerned, Sam was nowhere near as intense and, well, tense in that concern.

Both Cameron and Sam turned their eyes back to the monitor, back to the beauty and the beast. Talking teapots and conversing candlesticks not included.

* * *

For a few moments, there was only silence. The air was tense with the pomp and circumstance of so much hanging in the two beings' minds that they wished to keep unsaid. But it was more than just that…how does something human and something not human start a conversation?

With laughter…at least that's what Mad Mikey decided as it began heaving with mirth.

"What's so funny?" Dakota asked, unnerved at this sudden display of intense laughter.

"I'm sorry but…I just can't get over it, even after all of these years…his name is penis! He's a Long Johnson…without a long Johnson!"

Dakota was trying not to laugh, to remember the seriousness of the situation, but she was having a bit of hard time about it. What Mad Mikey said next didn't help.

"You have no idea how much great material I was able to mine from his mother's mistake. Dok'tor Dick wasn't the only little nickname I would use. There was also: Professor Penis, Captain Crouch, Governor Gonads, Seaman Semen, Sergeant Shaft, Lieutenant Loins, and Baron von Balls, among so many others."

Unable to hear the increasingly loud and frustrated groans from Dr. Johnson in the room behind the snack bar, Dakota was desperately struggling to not laugh even though she couldn't help but keep snickering.

"Seriously though, what is it with people and penises? I truly do not understand, what with me never having one. Are they really what the your entire world revolves around?" Mad Mikey asked in a slightly more serious manner.

"I wouldn't know…(snicker)…I've never had one either." Dakota suddenly found herself replying.

The two stared at each other in silence.

Dakota suddenly lost control and exploded into hysterical laughter.

Mad Mikey and everyone in the room behind the snack bar minus Dr. Johnson (who was looking at Mad Mikey as if he wished for it to explode) joined Dakota as there collective laughing became a roaring chorus of manic merriment.

After several minutes as the laughter finally started to die down in both rooms, Mad Mikey was the first to fill the air with something aside from laughter.

"Oh, my. That was inspired! You are such a pleasant change of pace from that old fart. So, shall we begin this little psychoanalyzing session? But I must warn you, please avoid the Freudian approach that the doc seems to fancy. Unless of course you want my responses to be, and I quote, ' dick joke dick joke dick joke dick joke dick joke…penis'."

After again finding herself laughing despite knowing the serious situation, Dakota responded with, "Ok, I think I can manage that."

In the silent space afterward, Dakota couldn't help but wonder why she was laughing so much despite her knowing better than most what Mike must be enduring? Maybe it was because of the largely negative state that she had been in lately made her more responsive to every positive chance? Maybe it was because of the indefinable charisma that seemed to ooze from Mad Mikey? Maybe it was those factors plus another hidden one?

As Dakota's mind was talking while her mouth wasn't, Mad Mikey's was as well. Except its thoughts were precise and ready. While Dakota was fumbling, Mad Mikey would take over this conversation (just as it had planned to in the spur of the moment decision formed after learning it would talk to Dakota first). What it was about to say would be its fingers starting to reach for the fruit of the first tree.

"Sorry but before it slips my mind and I'm locked away again, I must say that with the possible exception of Zoey, you might be the most beautiful thing these eyes have ever seen. This probably seems out of nowhere but seeing new faces is something I never had the chance to before today."

"Thank you." Dakota found herself saying, despite the conflict between her emotions and her reason. While Sam and all of her other friends often told her she was beautiful, Dakota's vulnerable sense of identity made her slightly paranoid about the sincerity of such statements. She sometimes wondered if they were just saying these things to make her feel better about herself. It was something that Dakota hated herself for and berated herself about often. And yet it remained. Dakota didn't realize it but she was partially falling back on old habits, trusting the opinions of strangers over those she knew or her own. Her former routines were like a turtle shell; safe, familiar, heavy, hollow, a part of her she couldn't run away from.

Something about Mad Mikey brought these concerns into the front of Dakota's mind. But what?

Having gently pushed Dakota ever so slightly a little further into her own insecurities, Mad Mikey preceded with the next little push. To push its fingers a little closer.

"Wow. Comedic and cute…I must say that sweet **Sammy** Sam of yours hit all sevens in the relationship rollover. Just how is the old, not so old, joystick jockey doing? I know you've been having a hard time lately but he's been such a trooper, hasn't?"

"Oh…um, good. He is doing good. And yes, Sam has been so wonderful and supportive. He truly has been a godsend to me." Dakota found herself admitting.

"I can see why. Considering the life that you've had before meeting him, having someone so accepting must make you like the happiest being on Earth. He might even be what you were looking for this whole time. Why do you think that is, what makes Sam like that?"

Dakota took a long breath, and collected her thoughts, before answering the question.

"Well, at first, I'm sure he was only interested in my looks and I treated him as I did any of the other guys I didn't find physically attractive. As something who just wanted to get into my pants or my father's checkbook. Looking back on it I realize that was all Sam had to go on when we first met. But as I got to know him, I slowly began to see that he actually cared for me and wanted to make me happy.

"Maybe it was because he could tell that I felt alone from also feeling that way? Or perhaps he didn't realize I felt that way and he was looking to end his own loneliness? Either way, he inspired me to feel empathy for another person for the first time in I don't know how long, even though I didn't like it at the time. He became the first person to ask for me advice on anything, to treat me as a real person with some knowledge or skills to contribute aside from my appearance. Even after I became that **monster**, Sam still stuck by me because he found me just as wonderful as when he first set his sights on me. How many other guys do you think would not only stick around but truly care about a girl whose twelve feet tall, has a tail, and can only talk in broken English?

"But I guess that sums it up. Sam truly cares about me, not my body or money. He stands by me and supports me no matter what curveballs life seem to throw our way. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that I lo…" Dakota said before stopping herself.

Dakota couldn't explain why but something about this being's presence made her more open than she logically knew she should. It was almost as if those bright green eyes were quietly excavating in Dakota's mind and influencing her to pull out private, precious stones that would otherwise be hidden.

Dakota couldn't have known it but that was exactly what was happening. Unknown to her or anyone else, Mad Mikey had the ability to lightly sway the minds of others. After all, it was, as Dr. Johnson described, "an independent electromagnetic pattern in Mike's brain". But it was a pattern not narrowly confided to Mike's brain. No, Mad Mikey discovered while isolated that it could reach out and affect the patterns of others' brains. Not to the point where it could read their minds or have them be under its control however. Instead what this allowed it to do was make a person slightly more open with their true emotions and slightly more vulnerable to preexisting fears and issues.

As Dakota talked about Sam, Mad Mikey found itself slightly distracted by its own thoughts.

' _Not only is Dakota's mind an open book, but also it's one with the best bits already underlined. I may be able to sense her emotions and lightly push them to the surface, but I'm not creating them out of thin air. There's so much fear and insecurity, both for her present predicament and her pervious self that I barely even need to examine her electromagnetic pattern. This is proving too easy. But who am I to turn down free fruit?'_

After Dakota stopped herself, Mad Mikey interjected, finally feeling that it was time.

"Well that's understandable my dear Dakota. After all, when one's true self is casting off the sham, there is likely to be a lot of curveballs, yes?"

"Uh…what are you talking about?" Dakota asked, a little on edge because of the odd question.

"Let me ask you something Dakota: do you know what happens to most people who are exposed to radioactive or toxic materials?"

Dakota shook her head; the blonde had no idea about anything regarding materials radioactive or toxic except that they were not things someone wanted to be around.

After sighing with a look of unsurprised disappointment on Mike's face, Mad Mikey answered its own question with, "They become sickly and start slowly dying. And yet, when you were exposed, you became a living example of the paranoid fantasies found in bad science-fiction films from the 1950's onward. What makes you so special? Why did those chemicals have such a strong effect on you but no one else before you?"

"I honestly don't know. Cameron, B, and the doctors have said it could be because of something in my DNA or that the ratio of materials used here wasn't seen until now?" Dakota answered clearly on edge, both for not really comprehending the theories that she had been told and for another reason that she couldn't really identify.

Mad Mikey looked at the struggling blonde with the eyes of a predator glaring at its kill. The fingers were about to grab the fruit, the other reason Dakota couldn't identify.

"I think you know but your trying to deny it, to lie to yourself. And there's nothing I detest more than the stench of lies."

"I am not lying to anyone!" Dakota exclaimed her uneasy state made worse by the charge against her.

"So let's say what's staring you in the face…" Mad Mikey said, ignoring Dakota's claim, "it wasn't the chemicals, at least not in the sense that you would like to think."

"What are you talking about? Of course it was the chemicals!" Dakota slightly shouted as her ever growing unease was now joined by genuine confusion.

With its fingers tightly holding the fruit's skin, Mad Mikey began to twist it to snap it off of the branch.

"Those chemicals did not create a second, alien personality in you but instead gave a form to your true, repressed self. To the monster."

"**I AM NOT A MONSTER!"** Dakota shouted as loud as she could. **Twist.**

"They were not its creator but instead it's liberator. That final little push to give it the chance to break free from the shackles of your self-deception and claim its rightful place as the master of your body."

"No it's not! **IT'S NOT ME!**" Dakota said has her anger and fear reached beyond their boiling points. **Twist.**

"And yet, that monster was one pieced together with unspecified craft and care, by **you**." Mad Mikey said to the nearly panicking Dakota in the most matter-of-factly tone possible, "It was forged and fused into your very core every day for sixteen years because of your many vanities."

"Uh…well I…hey! What right do you have to accuse me?" **Twist.**

"Because of every time you knew an act was selfish or indecent but you did it anyway."

"That's…that's from the past. This is the present!" **Twist.**

"Because of every occasion where you were only concerned with your own advancement while countless others less fortunate suffered far more for much less."

"Well... uh, yes…possibly, but..." **Twist.**

"Because of every instance where you felt frustration but blamed others instead of rightly blame yourself; every opportunity where you concealed and repressed your rage with no nobler reason than to follow a set of arcane, obtuse social norms."

"Uh... I didn't…no, I don't…um…" **Twist.**

"Because of every moment of loneliness that you tried to fill with shallow material possessions and the shallower opinions of millions who you didn't even know."

"...uh...I..." **Twist**.

"But most of all, because you don't have any other face or identity outside of your selfish shell, aside from that of the monster trying to claw its way free."

"...uh...er...eh...um..." **Twist.**

"I'd just like to say…"

"…" **Twist.**

"…stop your lies Dakota and let the Dakotazoid, the monster and your true self, free!"

**SNAP!**

As Dakota's mind snapped, her body began to snap…and crackle and pop. Once again pinned down by her own tensed up muscles, Dakota watched helplessly as everything took on a tinge of red and yellow. The sitting body of her 'Ba-Fa-Fa's boyfriend became slightly smaller and smaller and smaller before her. Of course that wasn't the case, Dakota was actually getting slightly taller and taller and taller.

Overwhelmed by the relentless probing of Mad Mikey, Dakota was now forced to endure an experience worse than any she could have ever imagined…not just transforming into the Dakotazoid, but having it happen twice in the same day. With no guarantee that it wouldn't happen this time and that would be the end of Dakota.

As her blonde hair became green and her smooth skin became rough and orange, Dakota was able with her increasingly limited ability to use her own senses to notice that there was a sound. The sound of a door opening rapidly as it slammed against the nearby wall. And then, with her progressively foggy eyes, she saw two figures standing right in front of her.

She then heard something, maybe one of the figures speaking to her? Dakota couldn't tell because now her hearing wasn't much better than deaf. But one thing she did hear was a low, menacing growl echo around her. And the growl didn't come from her.

Whatever made that growl then lowered Dakota's head slightly, just enough to be eye-level to the shorter of the two figures. What did that shorter figure do next? Dakota couldn't say because she lost her sight completely and found herself surrounded by rapid winds. Right after curling up into a ball, Dakota heard something in the fierce winds. Something familiar…something squeaky?

"_Dakota, can you hear me Dakota?"_

* * *

Sam watched with just as much dread and alarm as when Dakota nearly transformed earlier today. He still couldn't believe it; he couldn't believe that he had done nothing. Once **it** began to abuse Dakota, the gamer found himself unable to move. It wasn't until both Cameron and Dawn shook him out of his shocked state that he ran through the door with Dawn closely behind him.

And know he was watching again, this time he was watching Dawn try to reach out to Dakota as he silently prayed for her success. As he did, Sam looked at the **thing**! Sam felt more anger than he had at any point in his entire life. After goading Dakota into transforming, it just sat there…with a small smile on Mike's face. Like it was getting some kind of sick kick off of causing Dakota so much pain!

Indeed, Mad Mikey had been watching the proceedings with quiet amusement. The small smile on Mike's face betrayed just how much it had enjoyed verbally tormenting Dakota. It appears that Mad Mikey didn't notice Sam being right in front of it because it looked very faintly surprised for a moment. But immediately after that, the smile on Mike's face got larger.

As that smile grew, so did Sam's anger. Just like earlier today with Scott, the normally peaceful gamer was feeling a very strong and uncharacteristic desire for violence. He was so tempted to beat this immobilized monster to a pulp; it literally couldn't lift a finger. But something was holding him back, Mike's face. It was only because of his knowledge that this thing was in the body of a friend that kept him from jumping at this monster. Instead, Sam restrained himself and simply spoke with a fraction of the intensity he felt.

"'**BLEEP' YOU!"**

"Da…Dawn?" A voice weakly asked, the most beautiful voice in the world to Sam.

Quickly turning his head, Sam found that voice was coming from the most beautiful sight in the world. He saw Dakota, in fully human form. All of the great anger melted away.

As he approached her, Dakota again weakly asked, "Sa…Sam?"

Nodding his head, as he got closer, Sam's eyes started to become watery. Dakota's were too, at first out of joy of not having transformed…but then out of sadness for having nearly transformed for a second time today.

Noticing the switch in Dakota's facial expressions, Sam quickened his pace and reached Dakota right when she began breaking down.

Once in Sam's arms, Dakota could only weakly mumble, "It almost happened…**again**…"

That was all that Dakota could say. The beautiful blonde then started crying so strongly that both Sam and Dawn had to guide her back to the room behind the snack bar.

As they guided the broken former fame-hog, Mad Mikey's mind was loud with thoughts.

'_Well that was more fun than I had expected…and easier too. Wondrous weapons, words, they can do so much with so little. Even better, that was both work and play for this not so dull boy. Now that she'll be consoling the blonde pseudo-human, Dawn will be too busy to pick away at my aura's shielding. The Seraph discovering my final revelation pre-maturely was the only major X-factor left. _

'_Um…Sam told me to __**'BLEEP'**__ off…really I can't even say that in my own mind? Well? Anyway… he's the first person to show me disrespect and hatred. I like that! As the first person to honestly say that they think about me…I'll reward him by killing him last.'_

* * *

Given the very short distance between the lobby and the room behind the snack bar, it was only a matter of seconds before Dawn and Sam brought Dakota into the back room.

The room was silent as the grave aside from Dakota's loud, anguished crying. Once Dakota was brought to the back of the back room, she sat down and held Sam tightly. After she sat down, Dakota found herself surrounded by about half of the people there, her friends who were greatly saddened and concerned about her well-being. She found Sam and Dawn as well as Zoey, Brick, B, and Cameron offering her comfort and compassion.

While Dakota was truly happy to know that so many people cared about her, it wasn't enough to lessen her crying any. The horror of having nearly lost herself forever to that **monster** inside of her was too much.

Even those who did not approach Dakota looked more affected by this ordeal than one might think. But of all of them, none were more affected that Dr. Johnson. The doctor was torn between two mighty thoughts within his mind.

On the one hand, he had never thought that talking to Mad Mikey would result in this kind of pain. He had already felt sympathetic towards Dakota but this only added to that. As he saw the blonde crying because of something so beyond what she should have to deal with that this stage of her life, the doctor was seriously considering pulling the plug.

However, there was something else, another force battling against this emotion. Logic; the logic that since Mad Mikey was showing so much behavior that was barely hinted at before that there had to be far more that it wasn't revealing. The doctor couldn't have known how terribly right he was! Light influence over other's brainwaves was the least of the horrible discoveries that would be made of Mad Mikey this day.

Despite his sympathy for Dakota and his growing disgust for Mad Mikey, Dr. Johnson decided that they must continue because of his own personal scientific inquires and the need to know who much Mad Mikey had changed so he could figure out how to help Mike. Otherwise trying to help Mike would be like hunting a tiger in the forests of the night without ensuring that the gun had any bullets in it.

"Uh…Dakota, I'm… I'm so sorry. Truly I am. I had no idea that it would be like that." Dr. Johnson said with a voice weakened by guilt for both what had just happened and what he was about to say next, "However, I must ask if anyone else wants to talk to it?"

As the majority of those in the room looked at the doctor like he was from an alien dog solider from Mars, the doctor knew he had to explain why to them.

"The fact that Mad Mikey is totally different from what I thought means that there's been a great change. A change that might not just be in personality but also its hold over Mike. You may find this hard to believe but as it was talking to Dakota it was lightly pulling on her brainwaves to bring her emotions to the surface. I need more time to observe it so I can gauge its hold over Mike. I know I'm asking far more than I have any right to but…"

"I'll go. I'll talk to it." A voice said interrupting the doctor before he could finish. Though the voice was not loud, one could feel a palpable anger coming from it.

This was even more shocking considering that the voice came from Cameron. The meek former bubble boy didn't seem like the sort for this sort of thing, at least at first anyway. However it actually was very appropriate for him. After all, not only was this thing doing who knew what to Mike, his first and closet friend, but also Cameron agreed with the doctor that more had to be discovered about the horrible personality to measure it abilities and repress it. While he couldn't ask anyone else to do this, Cameron knew it had to be done. Also, he was royally pissed off about this creature hurting Dakota so much!

As Cameron slowly walked out of the room behind the snack bar with his glass covered eyes glaring, the others in that room either continued watching the camera-feed on the monitors or returned to comforting Dakota.

While his mind was focused on consoling Dakota, Sam felt a very odd thought enter his head. For some reason, the seasoned gamer couldn't help but compare that **thing** in the body of his friend to Psycho Mantis, a boss from the first _Metal Gear Solid_. The gamer remembered how many times he had been bested by the hovering psychic in the gas mask because it could "read" a game controller and know the player's next move before it could happen. Just like how Mad Mikey seemed to know exactly how to "read" Dakota's concerns and use them against her. Eventually Sam discovered how to defeat the boastful boss, and it was by going beyond the limits of the game…by plugging the controller into a different port than the one being used when the battle began.

But Sam then became a little nervous has he thought to himself, _'There is no different controller port this time. No way to move around this mental if it's a Psycho Mantis.'_

* * *

Mad Mikey, still in Mike's sitting body, just waited. While it truly hated the waiting, the silences, Mad Mikey tried to be patient. Clamor and activity would resume soon enough. Oh what chaotic clamor and amoral activity would tear at today and its dull beginning!

As it hear the door being opened, Mad Mikey inwardly cheered. The waiting subsided. As the second human sat down in front of it, Mad Mikey imagined a second tree growing. This one had bark of black and truly twig-like branches. And what was even better was that now it didn't need to conceal as much as it had with Dakota. It could reach for the fruit with swifter purpose. The fruit of this tree wasn't quite as oversaturated as the first tree's fruit, so it would take a little more effort to obtain. It was time to start reaching.

Cameron for his part was merely glaring at the owner of those awful green eyes. He was running through his advanced mind all of the possible scenarios of how it could start this conversation to get the most logical useful outcome. However, despite all of his planning and intelligence, Cameron's emotions of outrage for Mike and Dakota overcame both.

"Why are you doing this to Mike? Why did you do that to Dakota!"

"As far as Mike goes, you'll find out soon enough. And for Dakota, it is very simple Cameron. I simply put into words what she knew deep down but tried to ignore."

"No, no you didn't! There's no way you could know anything of that sort. You just wanted to hurt Dakota, didn't you?"

"Oh, all right, you got me. But then again, who's to say I'm not right. Can you show how I am wrong with absolute certainty? After all, if anyone here could it would be you, the boy who came from a bubble who beat all his adversaries with his superior brain, yes?"

"Well… there are several theories that I've thought of and have began testing. At the moment the one with the most evidence behind it is that the radioactive and toxic chemicals on the island altered Dakota's DNA by activating a more primal strain that's been dormant in her family's genetic code since prehistoric times and then mutating it."

"Yes, but do you have certainty? Something aside from theories and fickle maybes'?"

"Evolution and electricity are theories and yet there's nothing fickle about them. They are as real as air and water."

"Very true but they are also as abundant as air and water. There is support for those theories as diverse as every modern smaller computer to every discovered bone from the various Homos, from _Homo sapiens_ to _Homo erectus_, even if most aren't too erectus. Can you offering anything as conclusive as smaller computers or erectus bones?"

"Well…no, I can't. Bu…but both of those theories have had literally several centuries' worth of countless brilliant minds make small discoveries that than accumulate into a developed theory with real world examples. If you honesty except me to feel bad because I haven't reached that level in only a few weeks than you must think of me as a fool?"

"Very good. And I know that you are no fool. After all, only a fool would only half cure a friend with an infliction as severe as Dakota's, right? Only a fool would leave said friend in a state where they must isolate themselves in a, if you will, mental…bubble, yes?" Mad Mikey asked with sarcasm clearly behind its breath and a grin on Mike's face.

"I did not mean to put Dakota in a bubble of any kind!" Cameron shouted, realizing in retrospect just how bad we felt during his sixteen years inside of a bubble at home.

"Oh. Did I just touch a nerve? Does it depress you Cameron; that you've made a friend who already had issues with emotional isolation retreat deeper into those anxieties? Do you fear that Dakota blames you for her condition and its resulting turmoil? Why don't you go ask her, when she's done crying her pretty little eyes out because of you, that is?"

"It's because of you! You're the one who did that to her. You made Dakota cry!" Cameron once again shouted as the guilt he felt from this monster's words and the truth behind them was eating away at him.

"Come now Cameron, someone as smart as you knows that you can't put all of the blame on my non-existent shoulders. You're the one who put her in such a vulnerable state to begin with. I am merely feeding off of the fruits of your failure; with great ease and satisfaction I might add. But that's what this is really all about isn't, your failure?"

"Failure?"

"Yes, failure. That's paradox within you Cameron; you've done so much during your time here and yet your story is in the final analysis nothing but a confession of failures."

"I have had just about enough of you harping on Dakota! If we don't change the subject of this conversation right now, then I'm done." Cameron said, fighting his desire end this because of his now festering guilt with the knowledge that he had to keep talking to Mad Mikey in order to give the doctor more to observe in order to repress this horrible being.

"Very well. Your failure with Dakota is but an extension of a more fundamental failure. The cameras of this show give so many examples for me to choice from."

"What are you talking about? Aside from not only winning this season, I was responsible for many of my team's wins during this season. I conquered my arachnophobia by beating up what I thought at the time was a giant spider. I was the first one to discover that Mike had MPD and helped him overcome it…until you came along. And I personally stood up to Jo, beat Lightning in the finale, and helped eliminate Scott."

"Yes, you made great progress in regards to yourself. But I'd like to talk about Mike's struggle because how you helping him played out best shows what I'm hinting at but you can't seem to see. You may have helped him but that was only because you failed. After finding out Mike's secret, you told Scott with little to no effort on his part. It was only because of him that Mike was given the chance to overcome his other selves. And then, you spilled the beans to Zoey, which in turn gave Mike the drive to succeed. Once again, it was your failure to keep the secret that helped Mike, not your knowledge or efforts.

"Do you see what I'm getting at? When it comes to yourself, you've done wonders. But when you try to help anyone else, you either fail or help them because of some failure. As we both know, the reason isn't because you truly didn't want to help them. But then why is your record so sloppy with helping others? Being one who kisses the feet of science, you must realize that there's a reason for this. But do you know what that reason is?"

Cameron just stared at Mad Mikey. He had honestly never thought of it that way. The former bubble boy didn't understand why Dakota just sat there as Mad Mikey ripped her apart. Now Cameron understood and felt trapped by this being's cold but correct logic.

"The reason is quite simple, your failure with others stems from that which ironically makes you so capable when doing something for yourself…your way of viewing the world.

"Having spent the majority of your life within a literal bubble with only books for company, you've come to see the world as nothing but a collection of stories and facts. That's how you were able to build things like a rocket engine and a suit of mechanical battle armor that even the militaries of the world haven't reached from some garbage. Whereas most would just see a pile of garbage, you only saw its most basic elements.

"But that's how you see everything, only its definable features and there possible uses instead of what it actually is. It's the same case with other people, like Mike and Dakota. You know what MPD is, its history, its symptoms, the scholarly debates about its vitality, and the theories about what genetic combination is needed for something to get MPD. You know examples of people being exposed to hazardous materials, the successes and failures of treating people exposed, the physical and psychological effects such exposure can have, and the ways to measure and gauge differences resulting from that exposure.

"But when you encounter flesh and blood beings with those conditions, you can only be of use when you view them as just a few more soulless subjects to be studied like lab rats in order to add to the world of artificial knowledge. When you try to reach out and help them as human beings, you become about as useful a turtle tucked away in its shell."

Cameron just sat there, much like a turtle. He tried to listen while his exceptional brain was struggling to process all of this new information while not breaking down. Unfortunately, there was more Mad Mikey had to say, more twists in store.

"And the results of your true failure won't stop there! Despite your vast wealth of knowledge and whatever academic or financial success you may obtain, you will be a half person trying to become whole in a social world that you can't handle or understand.

"When you leave this island, where are you going to go? Back to that same bubble you left. You'll be trapped there once again, but this time it will be by your own choice instead of plastic barriers. Do you think that the girls out there will even give the time of day to a meek little man who has far greater ease talking about advanced theoretical physics than making small talk about what celebrity of the week has gotten a divorce?"

Cameron had well gone beyond the point where he was able to answer these clearly rhetorical questions. The genius had only passingly thought about such issues but they made so much logical sense. For the first time, logic frightened him, saddened him.

Sadly the demon had one last blade to trust into the heart of the sweet and caring brainiac. It had a few more twists for the fruit of this second tree.

"But there is one last dimension to your world view, the omnipotence of science and reason, that is folly. The god of science is like any god worshiped: arrogant, pompous, falsely omnipotent, claiming to have either all answers or the means to discover all answers. But what happens when a god's worshipers discover it has no omnipotence?

"Just like how your beakers and rulers and theories are useless to explain Dakota's true self, they are useless to explain me. Unless you have a series of tests that show how despite being in Mike's mind for the majority of my life I have a vast grasp of human history, language, and even popular culture? Could it be that you have some diagrams to rationalize how even when Mike was eight years old I was capable of being the most powerful being on Earth? Or a hypothesis for what makes me so extraordinary when even the other most fantastical examples of people with MDP don't even come close to me?

"And that is why your story is one of failure in the final analysis. Not only are you sealed off from your fellow man but also what you've mastered is ultimately and definitely useless! Just like **you**!"

The fruit of the second tree, the one that called itself Cameron, had been snapped off. Not only that but Mad Mikey took a big bite, the imagined juices running down Mike's chin.

As the fictional juices ran, the ghastly grin on Mike's face grew. Mad Mikey had rendered another human being to a speechless object with nothing more than the truths they chose not to see and its own prose based in their pains. It loved that!

Cameron said nothing as he got up and walked back to the room behind the snack bar. Even this mightiest of minds found himself in waters whose depths he could not fathom.

* * *

Back in said room, it was pretty much the same as Cameron had left it. More towards the front about half of those in the room were watching the monitor. Chris looked with a massive grin; daydreaming about the ratings these sessions would score him. Chef had a similar look but one informed by some bizarre sense of partial guilt. Of the former campers watching, only Staci and oddly enough Anna Maria looked concerned for Cameron. But the one at the monitor with the greatest expression of sympathy was Dr. Johnson. As he walked past him, Cameron noticed that the doctor had a notepad out and that many pages of it were covered in sloppy notes that must have been jotted down fast. The former bubble boy silently prayed that the doctor was getting the data he needed to stop that **thing** inside of his best friend.

In the back of the back room were Sam, Dawn, Brick, B, and Zoey who were still surrounding and comforting Dakota. To their credit, it seemed that Dakota had mostly calmed down and was no longer upset about almost transforming twice in the same day. Since they had been reassuring Dakota, those in the back didn't see Cameron's session. But as the six teenagers looked at his face, which was looked exhausted and overwhelmed, they understood everything that they needed to.

The most telling were Cameron's eyes. Normally, those big black eyes behind clear round lens were shining stars of optimism and good will. But now, they looked almost hollow, as if the stars had died and there shine was replaced by lightless black holes. Combined with his mouth, trying not to be a frown but failing, the black teenager's face was one that instantly aroused sympathy from those in the back of the room.

Of the six in the back, none felt greater sympathy than Dakota, knowing personally what it was like to merely talk to that vile monstrosity. Having finally overcome her own despair after her discussion with it, Dakota offered a hand to Cameron. As Cameron took Dakota's hand and sat down next to her, he felt his guilt become even greater. Despite whatever first appearances might have said, he came to understand that Dakota was a very sweet if insecure person. He couldn't help but replay Mad Mikey's words in his mind about how he not only failed someone so sweet but made them suffer so much because of it. There were no tears but Cameron was crying loudly on the inside. Even if he wasn't crying, everyone could see that Cameron was hurting pretty bad.

This included Dr. Johnson, the rift within him because of his sympathy with the teenagers clashing against the logically based need to keep having them talk to Mad Mikey for more needed data, data that had grown exceptionally.

In the space of time that was Cameron's discussion with Mad Mikey, Dr. Johnson developed a much better understanding of how Mad Mikey was capable of "reading" other's emotions. It appeared that Mad Mikey generated electrical activity that was undetectable by human senses and could travel outside of Mike's nervous activity then interacted with another's nervous system, the means by which all people experience their five basic senses and their emotions. It didn't influence the other person's nerves but it did make there signal a little stronger. Dr. Johnson began theorizing that this made the one talking to Mad Mikey more aware of and vulnerable to their emotions. At the same time, this basic understanding of the other's emotions combined with having seen all of the experiences on the island through Mike's eyes must have been how Mad Mikey was able to figure out their greatest fears and insecurities.

And yet, he couldn't bear with the guilt, what happened so far was beyond his standards. But, he couldn't will that guilt towards ending this exercise. But what he did will to happen was that the doctor stopped rapidly writing on his notepad for a few moments. The doctor thought only a single thought.

'_Why am I doing this?'_

But before more thoughts could stem from that seed, the doctor heard the sound of the door open. Quickly turning his head to the room behind, he very soon realized that one person was not there anymore. Turning back to the monitor, Dr. Johnson saw someone sitting in the chair in front of Mad Mikey.

* * *

Mad Mikey had been hoping for this but was still a little startled when it happened. While it had taken great pleasure in pulling out and feeding on the fruits of emotional anguish from Dakota and Cameron, it was starting to lose a little patience. However, the universe, in its all-knowing indifferent wisdom, had Mad Mikey's patience greatly rewarded. For sitting a few feet away from it was the ruby and flowered tree with the forbidden fruit. **Zoey!**

Indeed, it now was Zoey who sat within deep breathing distance of her boyfriend's body. Normally she would have looked at the sitting form's mocha-skin and black spiky hair with concern and happiness. But her brown eyes were now burning with anger whose reach was last felt after Mike's medallion was destroyed thanks to Chef's cruelty. There, sitting right in front of her was something that brought nothing but pain to this day. Because of it: innocent Mike had to be locked away like a criminal, struggling Dakota had been pushed into her worst fear, and sweet Cameron had been impaled by guilt. All of this ran through Zoey's mind at once as she began talking to this harbinger of pain.

"You sick, vile monster!"

Tut-tutting Zoey's insult, Mad Mikey responded, "Such barbaric, such monstrous language from a supposedly un-venomous tongue. And here I thought you'd open up with a **'BLEEP'**? Or maybe a subtle **'BLEEP'** and a dignified **'BLEEP'**? Of course, you can't tell what those words are since they're all bleeps. But that's the fun of it, right?"

After looking stunned at the reply she received, Zoey's anger quickly came back.

"You verbally abuse two of my friends to the point of despair and you go on about bleeps as if nothing happened! Is this all some kind of sick game your playing with our feelings?"

"Yes and no. I won't deny my great personal enjoyment in playing my "sick game", as you call it, with your friends but they were never my concern. They were merely pawns, which I had to remove from the "game" to expose the queen, you Zoey, because my subtle opening moves didn't do the job. Besides, can a tiger be blamed for tearing apart slabs of damaged meat if they are thrown at it?"

"Cameron and Dakota are not pawns or meat! If you wanted to talk me, just say so and spare them the pain! Now that I'm here, why do you want to talk with me?"

"Why you indeed. I won't go into the full dimensions of that yet but I'll begin with just that. Your celestial fire burning with self-righteous, sincere but always a self-sarcasm."

"What? Fire…sarcasm? What are you talking about?" Zoey asked, her anger overtaken for the moment by confusion.

"Simply that you truly believe that you care about the people on this island when in actuality you don't. Despite whatever vehement proclamations you make to the contrary, your concern for others is half-hearted…sarcastic, at best, without you even realizing it."

"Don't you try those twisted head games of yours with me! Of course I care about my friends here with all of my heart…and not a fragment of sarcasm! They're the first friends I've ever had, nothing matters more to me than them!"

"I take it that means Mike as well, yes?"

"Well, um…yes. Of course it does. That…goes without saying."

In the pause in the conversation, on Zoey's part, Mad Mikey inwardly praised itself. It knew that given her already strong connection to Mike plus her sympathy for both Cameron and Dakota, she would be very on-guard. Also, unlike those other two, Zoey had no festering issues tormenting her…**yet**. They still had to be built, starting now.

"I thought so. How could that not be the case with you two sucking face so much lately? It was such a long and bumpy road for your tongue to get into Mike's throat, wasn't?" Mad Mikey said with a smirk so unpleasant.

"That is none of your business!"

"Oh but it is…it really is. After all, for all you know, I could be the one you truly want."

After laughing for a few seconds, Zoey responded, "I've seen how you are. Trust me, there is nothing in you that I could consider desirable. Mike is not only the one I want, but also he's everything that you are not. He's sensitive, caring, friendly, not judgmental, and does his best to help those who need it. I still can't believe that someone so sweet has something as sinister as you inside of him."

'_You haven't seen anything yet. You wouldn't be laughing once you see what I truly am.' _Mad Mikey thought to itself before saying to Zoey, "And yet I am inside of him. How do you figure that works? Or more importantly what does that mean about me?"

"I'm not interested in hearing your views on Mike and our relationship! In fact, I'm not even interested in you. I'm just concerned about Mike."

"Ok then, let's talk about Mike. After Mike discovered that he had MPD, he had little in the way of friends. So, he began to put himself on a mental tightrope. He would go out of his way to be "nice" to people, but not because he truly wanted to be nice to others. Instead he wanted to be "nice" because of the **crushing loneliness** that he felt and the hopes that if he built up a strong enough bond with someone that they would remain even if his terrible secret was ever revealed. And part of being "nice" met that Mike only showed the "good" traits, lying to himself and others because of his selfish desires."

"Even if that's true, which I'm sure its not, Mike wouldn't be lying to anybody. Him showing his good traits doesn't mean that they were all that he had. Others would be more judgmental towards him just because he wasn't **normal**." Zoey retorted, reflecting on her own experiences with not being what was considered "normal" and having her slip ever so slightly.

"Well that's true. Just like how those behaviors continued into the present day. Every moment he was on the island until right before he was eliminated from the game Mike lied to you, didn't trust you."

"Because Mike's condition made him a social pariah where he was from. He had been taught that others wouldn't accept him if they knew about his MPD. While I accepted him after knowing without a second thought, I understood why he was afraid to tell me."

"So much to pick apart in those few pregnant sentences, so little time!" Mad Mikey said to Zoey with a savage smile and its green eyes gleaming.

"I've got time. Try and pick away!" Zoey taunted, knowing that she had to give the doctor as much time as she could. Plus she had been doing better than Cam or Dakota.

'_Not for looooong.'_ Mad Mikey thought to itself, practically singing the extended "long".

"Oh goody, finally someone with a little life in them to talk to! Let us begin then." Mad Mikey said with a little pep before beginning its verbal onslaught of Zoey with the first thing to pick apart.

"Yes, you accepted Mike after knowing of his MPD, that I can't deny. But you did so after he had "conquered" it. Convenient timing for you, wasn't it? You got all of the good karma for accepting him without having to deal with any of the potential drawbacks."

"Are you trying to imply that I did that intentionally? That's absurd! There's no way I could have planned that in a million years! And like I said, I had no idea he had any condition to begin with."

"Once again, yes, that is true. But have you given any thought to potential **future** drawbacks?"

Zoey, for the first time aside from that minor pause earlier, was silent.

Mad Mikey continued, "Surely you have given some thought to such matters? No? Tisk-tisk, and you were doing so well too.

"My existence must have made you ponder what else is unknown about Mike, even to himself. Who's to say that I'm the only personality not yet known scuttling with ragged claws in the silent seas of Mike's subconscious? What wondrous beings and gruesome monstrosities lay in wait for the right trigger to bring them to the light of the real world?"

"I haven't…thought…of that. But…but that doesn't change the fact that I truly care about Mike!" Zoey said, as she was still reeling from that plausible revelation.

"Ah yes! What a nice segway to my second point to pick apart, your feelings for Mike."

"What could you hope to pick apart? You and I both know that my feelings are true." Zoey said, hoping for a chance to counteract Mad Mikey's arguments with confidence.

"Yes, but should they be? Let me ask you something, why did you even entertain the notice of being with Mike after "he" was locking lips with Anna Maria?"

Zoey looked shocked at the question, she hadn't thought about this possibility. She couldn't have known it but similar to Cameron and Dakota, Mad Mikey was gently pushing Zoey into her past concerns. And for Zoey, that meant the friendless and lonely Indie Chick from the town run by jocks. It took a little longer for her but not long enough.

"But…it wasn't Mike…ki…kissing Anna Maria. It was Vito!"

"You know that now with the advantage of hindsight. Back then in the heat of the moment, you were clueless and confused. And yet you still pursued and pined for Mike despite seeing him with your own eyes as he played tonsil hockey with some shoreline gutter girl! Why did you still pursue and pine for him?"

Not waiting for an answer, Mad Mikey resumed with gusto as it began tearing Zoey apart. It would relish in this even more than when it verbally attacked Dakota and Cameron.

"Well, I'll tell you! Coming from a town under the reign of the football team and their mindless flock of female followers, you must have spent many a night alone in your room wearing your retro clothing as you watched the latest in an endless succession of independent movies that wouldn't appeal to those wanting mindless special effects.

"How many sweet romances did you watch and wish that the girl was you while knowing that such fantasies were merely futile? How many hours would you spend alone with your thoughts as they scabbed over into mental callouses of despair and doubt? How many times did you curse yourself and those around you for unthinkingly trapping you on a tiny island made up of Indie Theater and horn-rimmed glasses?

"In such an environment, it was perhaps inevitable that you became what you were before leaving that island for this one: a forlorn and unknowingly selfish teenager girl who would endure all of the abuse and suffering in the world so she could hitch up with the first guy her own age who wasn't wearing a sports jersey and actually had a brain.

"That's why all it took was Mike saying the word "beautiful" while looking at you, when he could have just as easily been talking about the island, to have you hooked like a fish about to be gutted. From that point onward, you put up with all of his "characters" and "acting", even when they lead to him making out with another, just because you didn't think you'd ever get another chance. So you revolved around Mike, with every thought or action in relation to him with the same sense of self and identity found in a moon orbiting a planet. Not because it was Mike himself you wanted but someone, anyone, like Mike!

"Just like all so-called "good guys", you and Mike have tricked yourselves into believing that you have some deeper self and emotional connection with each other. But just like Dakota, you've been wearing masks of manners forged in loneliness and lies for so long that you've lost your true bearings in regards to what you actually are. Shallow self-deceiving teenagers who confused the desire for a bit of the old **in-out-in-out** for love.

"Tell me Zoey, do you think it was truly you that Mike wanted or just some random crusty sock that he could someday use to relive himself of his most basic and selfish impulses? Or riddle me this, did you just want to claim the first guy you met who was both hot and smart to experience the venal pleasures of the flesh which had been denied to you? Are you and he truly the sweet people the fans think or are you both desperate and lonely charlatans who have come to buy your own cons of kindness?

"And most importantly, **do you truly love Mike or just the body and idea of Mike**?"

When Mad Mikey finally finished, silence reigned supreme. Despite starting off stronger than either Cameron or Dakota, Zoey ended up in the same state as them…speechless, overwhelmed, and broken. So much was thundering inside of her mind, so much pain.

Mad Mikey, savoring this image and smiling with the mouth that Zoey had kissed so passionately earlier today, it had decided that enough was enough. It had partaken in the pleasantries of pussyfooting and finger-**'BLEEPING'**. Now it readied itself for the revelation, horrific and savage, to be sent to that purest of prophets.

The clouds eclipsing Mad Mikey's aura were parted. In the space between the forgotten thunder and the reclaimed lightning, it shuffled and hissed in the agonizing altitudes. Then, with all of the purpose of its existence behind it, the source of the storm rocketed towards the oracle on leather wings. As it crashed into the sibyl's psyche, the dragon, the true self, forsook any chance of concealment. Now all would quickly learn that it's scales were dark and cold. That its eyes gleamed at dead things, at damned things.

The beast was about to bear its fangs, to release its fire. The dragon ceased its slumber.

* * *

As those in the room behind the snack bar watched the pair through the electronic eye of the camera, all was silent but not inactive. Dr. Johnson had found himself in the throngs of indecision.

On the one hand, Mad Mikey had taken this far, **far** past what could be deemed acceptable by any code of ethics. Though its only weapon had been words, they were enough to stab at the heart of Dakota's anxiety and to add bricks to the weighted guilt on Cameron's meek shoulders. And now it was doing the same to Zoey, with greater gusto.

However, Mad Mikey had never been this committed to a discussion before. The information the doctor was gathering here and now was unbelievable in comparison to what bits and pieces he got in the past. It was as if he had been walking for years looking for gold and only finding specs of gold dust but then he all of a sudden stumbled upon Fort Knox! With it he just might be able to save Mike at last. To correct his mistake!

The doctor was so at war himself that he didn't notice it at first. But then a loud sound and the sight of everyone else looking down at something got his attention. Rushing over, Dr. Johnson saw what had drawn the crowd.

No one in the room behind the snack bar knew what had just happened, such knowledge was forbidden to them. But what they did know was that Dawn was now rolling on the floor. As the petite, pale one was gripping her head tightly, she screamed louder and in greater pain than any thought possible out of the tranquil Moonchild.

After the symbol of the demon slammed into Dawn's senses, the human sensitive found herself bombarded by a massive assemblage of new information. **Terrible information!**

In the wake of this sudden flood of grotesque sensation, Dawn found herself trapped. Trapped in the sights and sounds of every conceivable cruelty throughout humanity's centuries fueled by the horrid imaginations of so many gluttons for pain and punishment! And that was only in the first few seconds, those were only the mundane cruelties. What came afterward was a monstrous progression into brutalities unmistakably its own.

As horrors beyond the limited grasp of humanity's understanding and vision remained, Dawn remembered the many techniques of the spirit and aura that she had learned. With such knowledge as her only bedrock in an enteral sea of superhuman savagery, Dawn was able to part this unholy sea and return to room behind the snack bar.

Finding her friends gathered around her, Dawn rose to her feet faster than ever before.

"We have to get Zoey out of there…**NOW**!" Dawn said so loud and panicked that it seemed surreal coming from the normally soft-spoken and calm Moonchild.

While it went against every habit and instinct formed by years of being a psychiatrist with his feet firmly implanted in the sands of scientific reason, Dr. Johnson decided to trust Dawn on this one. Even though he couldn't explain it, the doctor realized by watching the season and afterwards that Dawn was on to something with her "powers" and it was best to take heed of them.

With a nod of the head, Dr. Johnson rushed into the lobby with everyone else behind him.

* * *

The others were motivated either by concern or just plain curiosity. Regardless they all saw Dr. Johnson as he grabbed Zoey's arm and brought her to her feet.

Dawn's impassion proclamation settled the internal conflict within the doctor's mind. There would be another time, another way to obtain the information he needed. Too much had happened as it is and no more would happen on his watch!

"I think that's enough for today, my dear. You've been away from Mike for long enough." Dr. Johnson said firmly as he gestured her towards the door. He was inwardly delighted at the look of joy on Zoey's face at hearing this.

Mad Mikey only responded with a clam but determined, "I'm not finished yet."

Taken back by the nerve, the audacity of this, this _**thing**_, Dr. Johnson decided to cast down the proper etiquette of a psychiatrist in his response.

"Well Mikey, that's unfortunate but **you're not the one in control here**! And I don't give two **'BLEEPS' **about whether your 'finished yet' or not! This has gone on for long enough! I should have stopped this insanity after what you did to Dakota. I'm getting these kids out of here and then I'm repressing you until I find a way to destroy you for good! As I should have done years ago!"

'_Ah, the truth finally comes to the surface after all of these years, uh doctor? But I can't have Zoey leave yet.'_ Mad Mikey thought to itself. It knew it had to work fast, as the doctor was taking the teenagers out of the lobby pretty quickly.

"But doctor, what about poor little old me?"

The doctor and the teenagers kept walking away as if hearing nothing.

"But doctor, what about you're a lustrous career?"

The doctor and the teenagers kept walking away as if hearing nothing. Dr. Johnson was reaching for the doorknob.

Mad Mikey merely smirked in exhilaration as it said, "But doctor, what about **Mike?**"

The doctor, and everyone else, stopped dead in their tracks.

"What did you say?" Dr. Johnson asked, turning back to face the demon.

"Mike. You know, the teenager with many personalities but ironically no personality himself. The one who pines to bang Zoey here like a Salvation Army drum. Mike."

After a moment of everyone staying where they are, Mad Mikey made a face like it just had a realization.

"Oh, I see. You don't understand. Well, let me step into the role of professor and explain something to you. Mike is not here right now, as you likely have figured out with your Sherlock Holmes powers of deduction. But have you asked yourselves, 'where is he?'

"Well, he's at a family reunion, of sorts. Catching up with some long lost kin, if you will. But I'm sure I can pull him away from the potato salad for a few moments."

With that, Mad Mikey opened Mike's mouth as wide as it could go and remained motionless for a few moments. But then…

"**EEEEAAAGH! YIIIAAAGH! EEEEIIIIGHH!" **

The teenagers and the adults heard a scream the likes of which none of them ever heard before. Despite Mike's mouth remaining completely open, the horrible pain filled screeching continued unaffected. And then the listeners noticed something; behind the howls of agony there was the faint humming of electrical currents.

They didn't have the chance to notice this much as Mad Mikey closed Mike's mouth and continued as if nothing had occurred that would cause alarm.

"I guess the potato salad is as bad at those things as they say it is, uh? Since some of those present are beyond dense," Mad Mikey said as it gestured towards Scott and Lightning with Mike's head, "I'll say the oblivious…the potato salad is a lie!

"Instead, what dear old Mike is dinning on right now is agony, by my hands. Well, my figurative hands anyway since I don't have hands in the true sense of the word…but the point is that I have it in my power to inflict pain on Mike, at any moment and to whatever degree I choose. I have enjoyed this quite a bit so far and I'll keep it up unless you let me finish my little piece. After I'm finished, I assure you that Mike will feel no more pain."

With looks ranging from anger to shock to concern (for Mike of course), all of those in the lobby came closer to Mad Mikey, who was clearly pleased with this turn of events.

"Very good. Now then…some of you in this room have likely formed opinions about me already but be assured that they are in error. I am not some squalid little pervert in the grip of a grotesque sexual compulsion nor am I a Saturday morning cartoon villain who wants to rule the world and have his face plastered on every visible surface."

"Well then by all means, please set the record straight Mikey. Tell us exactly what you are." Dr. Johnson said with a sense of seething resentment.

This got a great big horsy gap of a grin out of Mad Mikey, it had been hoping for a question along those lines. And now it had its chance.

"On October 31, 1952, the first hydrogen bomb in existence was tested on the South Pacific island of Elugelab by the US military. The blast yielded 10.4 megatons of nuclear energy. Making it 750 times more powerful than the blast over Hiroshima, the blast that freighted the world with the ominous proclamation _**'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds**_'. That mushroom cloud, that pillar of fire, rose 25 miles into the atmosphere. I would encourage you to go visit Elugelab but you can't. It doesn't exist, not anymore. A mile wide crater under the ocean's surface is all that remains of that tiny splotch of soil." **(3)**

The teenagers looked at each other in sheer confusion. What the Hell did that have to do with anything!?

"How is this relevant, Mikey?" The doctor asked, truly confused by the bizarre answer.

"You see doctor, like all big bombs, that device of death had a codename. But not just any codename, it was called…**Mike**."

"I still don't see the relevance." The doctor said. Though he didn't admit, the coincidence was trivial, yet unsettling.

The demon took a moment, considering it's words carefully. It's response spoke volumes and rippled into the minds of all of those present.

"That is what I shall be. Not just to a single island but the entire world. By the time this **'Mike'** is done, planet Earth will be as **scarred and dead** as the moon!"

Like the others present, Dr. Johnson was caught off guard by this answer. Despite having devoted nearly a decade of his life to the study of Mad Mikey, nothing could have prepared him for such a reply.

And worst was yet to come! Mad Mikey had not yet begun to elaborate.

"While you have been passing your silent judgments of me, I have been passing mine of you. And not just those of you in this lobby. Every bully whose cruelty forced my hand. Every teacher who looked the other way because intervening would have been a burden. Every child and parent who didn't even know of Mike's existence and therefore did not arbitrate on his behalf. Everyone…the whole goddamn human race.

"And I, the only being who can truly judge humanity since I am not human, have found you all guilty! Guilty of lies built on the backs of the broken. Guilty of justifying the most gruesome of acts with quant little hopefuls. Guilty of self-deception by your own fraudulent statements and beliefs. Guilty of drinking from and praising the Holy Grail of hypocrisy!

"Now hear your sentence! I sentence you all to reformation. My only desire is to reform the people who make up the human race, the fatal STD of this living planet. And I believe that the only way to reform people is to kill them. To become a one-man apocalypse minus the man part, the fruition of mankind's ultimate legacy, it's own extermination."

Even that was not the worst of it! That would be what came next, how it would do it!

* * *

**(WARNING: THE DARK IS ABOUT TO START!)**

"And what lovely images shall make up this bliss, this **bliss and heaven**? Listen.

"I will strike the cities and homes of nations so mightily that dead men and the pieces of dead men will fall to earth as a meteor shower made of human meat.

"I will mold men into monuments to my might and their powerlessness before that might. Proven by them twitching and wreathing in exquisite agony but not ending their pain.

"I will nail live women to the walls like paintings and leave them there so they can be broken and ravaged at my pleasure.

"I will smite all of the squealing infants and craft coral reefs out of there skulls, skulls pink and caked with blood so full of potential denied to them.

"I will take the tiny peoples you call children and thrust them back into the disgusting wombs of their mother's that they left kicking and screaming as they were forced into this revolting existence. Then I'll watch in joy as they bite and claw to escape that fleshy, maternal prison.

"I will watch families burn alive as a direct result of my actions. And as they desperately hug each other in powerless fright over there fiery fate, I will watch with indifference and think to myself, _**'Their pain and suffering doesn't matter. They don't matter'**_.

"The turning dark earth beneath my feet will become an offering to a ocean of fire. Everything not alive that gives your pathetic lives meaning; art, science, religion, economics, technology, government; will be the kindling for humanity's funeral pyre.

"I will blot out the sun and transform the sky into a shifting terrain of black smoke, thick with human fat. And as they look at the darkness over there heads, the whole human race will realize a truth that has always been true but repressed by the hope in the blue sky.

"They will realize that God is not there, that if there ever was a kind and loving God, He has long since died or left His so-called beloved creation in **cruel abandonment**! Nothing exists in the heavens but horrors indifferent to the desires of man. The same as anywhere else, the heavens are shaped by and exist on the whims of horrors.

"The lies and hypocrisy on which you base your lives will be burned away like your skin, forcing you to look at the revolting mass of internal organs by which you exist. By which you truly are. You will be forced to look at the horrors of your souls and realize there is nothing else. No better angels to your nature, nothing to pass off as a noble soul.

"And as I see nothing but death and flame in all directions, do you know what I'll do then? I'll let the scene wash over me and then I'll laugh, and laugh…**AND LAUGH**!

"You may listen to my plans and think that they are grandiose and a lot of hot air, maybe even impossibly fantastical. However, it will not take you long to realize that I am always, very…**literal**."

**(DARKNESS DONE…FOR NOW!)**

* * *

Afterward, there was only an unfathomable silence, only a garden of eyes in many colors. Whether they were brown, black, blue, purple, or green: all of the eyes did not dare blink or move.

For the second time today, the teenagers at Camp Wawanakwa were experiencing emotions so strong that they were almost physically incapable of handling. And yet, some how this time was even worse, even more affecting.

The first time, these sensations were in response to seeing incontrovertible proof of something that challenged their reality. A nine year old that was a super-man, an over-man: something that removed humanity from its beloved perch as the dominant form of life on Earth. Daunting but ambiguous, this was a radical change to their perceptions of their world and their place in it but not an automatic threat to their survival.

But now, not only was there proven to be something over man…but it was a monster! A demon without the bells and whistles of Hell's fire and brimstone; it expressed a desire to destroy everyone and everything that they knew or held dear. **And it actually could**!

Although no one there conceived of it in quite this way, there is an image that gives a form to the effect of listening to Mad Mikey's "bliss and heaven" and this realization. It was comparable to gazing into the interior of a human body torn open by some horrific accident. And then, with all of the vital organs laid bare and unhidden, the human body maintained consciousness through a superhuman ability to endure pain so that it could calmly declare that you would experience a fate even worse.

Sitting there, hidden behind the face of a friend and lover, was a dark man-god, minus the man part. But unlike that _**other**_ man-god, all of its miracles would be black, brutal ones.

The silence was broken, as two voices filled with fear addressed the dark half-god.

"Your out of your flippin' mind!" Anna Maria stated in dumbfounded horror, once again acting as the Greek chorus to put into words the collective's sentiment.

"There's no way you could be that mad!" Zoey said with so many emotions firing off at once.

Her concern for Mike, once the sole thought in her mind, now found itself joined by so many others. Feelings of being thunderstruck by this **creature**. Feelings of confusion about how this **monstrosity** could be in the same body as her sweet and caring boyfriend. Feelings of hope that this just another joke made in twisted jest, in unbelievably bad taste.

While in unbelievably bad taste, it was no joke. Mad Mikey began a sequence that only had meaning to it alone (and possibly Mike).

"Firstly. If I'm out of my mind, than where I am?

"Secondly. No, I'm not mad. I'm Mad Mikey. You forgot my last name.

"Thirdly. I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

As Zoey looked in sheer disbelief, all she could weakly say was, "Best part…?"

"Why yes, Zoey, best part. And said best part is this, your sentence begins…" Mad Mikey said before added with a jubilation barely restrained, "**today**!"

Noting and enjoying the looks of shock, Mad Mikey continued to explain its masterstroke.

"I'm going to take over this revolting sack of hamburger meat which you call Mike. Then, I'm going to kill every last one of you. Followed by, everyone else on Earth."

This stirred Dr. Johnson out of his coma-like state. Mad Mikey had to be wrong!

"M…Mi…Mikey…yo…you know that's not possible. You are still bound by my mental conditioning. You can't so much as lift one of Mike's fingers!"

To this, Mad Mikey only smiled. As much as it savored the sight of this "little" big man being on edge, it was getting ready to savor something even greater. Followed by something even greater than that. Only a few more steps until greater things.

"Oh I never would have thought of that." Mad Mikey said in scathing sarcasm before adopting a tone more fitting to discussing the weather, to discussing something so commonplace that it's barely even worth saying out loud.

"I don't know how aware you are of this doctor but your 'mental conditioning' is something which is pain based. And do you know the funny thing about pain? It's something that's relative. Once you reach a certain threshold, it can be no worse. You know its there but it doesn't matter. It can't hold you back, only briefly slow you down."

The look on Dr. Johnson's face said a thousand words to Mad Mikey, a thousand beautiful and terror filled words. Clearly he hadn't been expecting such an answer. To be told that the ultimate safety measure against Mikey would only briefly slow it down.

There was only last hope that the doctor was increasingly clinging to now.

"Even…even if…if that's true, you will not succeed. You know as well as I that it would only be a matter of time until Mike would reclaim control of his body. Even though your hold over Mike might be great, it couldn't overpower him for good. As long as he is resisting you, you are destined to failure."

As much as Mad Mikey hated to admit it, Dr. Johnson had a lot of valid points. No matter how great Mad Mikey's hold became, there was always the possibility that Mike could still overthrow it. After all, Mike did so to four personalities before. Even though they were all far weaker than Mikey, it showed that Mike could always reclaim control.

"I've got to admit it, you've got me there doc. Mike will always be there to resist me, and such resistance will eventually wear down my hold over him. Likely before I could finish my goal." Mad Mikey said in a manner of reluctant acceptance.

Every face in the lobby suddenly became so much happier. They finally found a fatal flaw in this demon's plan. It was all just a lot of threating prose and hot air after all!

'_Oh how much fun it will be to shatter their last line of defense, of hope' _Mad Mikey thought to itself before beginning this shattering.

"Unless…supposing, just supposing…what if Mike lost the will to resist me? After all, it all hinges on Mike having the drive and resolve to overpower my hold on him. And that drive is connected to what he values most. But what if I destroyed something, killed some_**one **_that Mike valued more than life itself." Mad Mikey said, placing special emphasis on "**-one**" as it moved Mike's eyes.

Turning his head, Dr. Johnson saw what…who Mad Mikey was looked at. Who the "one" was…it was…

**Zoey**!

As the redhead lover of Mike looked at those monstrous green eyes with her brown eyes, her face matched her mind. Filled with a terror the likes of which she had never even came close to experiencing before, numbing at the core and pushing out all else.

Seeing this, Mad Mikey had only one mission…adding to it, before ending her.

"Yes Zoey, that is right. You, my dear, will be the lynchpin to mankind's extinction. All of the blood that is destined to flow from this point onward will be on your decaying, bloated corpse and these hands, the hands of your first and only boyfriend.

"Not only that but your violent death, which your precious Mike will see in all of its glory, will be the end of Mike. He will be dead in every sense without the sweet release of death itself. And as I promised, Mike will feel no more pain. He won't feel anything ever again. No joy, no sorrow, no anger, no relief. He will be **hollow**…**forever**!

"But don't worry Zoey, I will give you and Mike a parting gift. You will get what you want most, you and Mike never growing apart. You see I'll dine on that which Mike values most…your heart. That way, you two will be dead but together. You will be inside of him, forever a part of him. I wonder how it will feel for him to feel you inside of him? But more importantly, I would how you will taste? I've never had a heart before but there's a first time for everything."

This was true, in more ways than Mad Mikey could have known. Since it never had a physical body of it's own, Mad Mikey never had a heart, or any other organs for that matter. And forget about the notion of the heart as it comes to matters of _**"love"**_.

Even so, Mad Mikey loved what Mike's eyes were seeing right now. Whether they were Mike's friends or foes, all of those before Mad Mikey had expressions matching Zoey's. Expressions of a fear and despair that before today they imagined impossible.

Those expressions reminded Mad Mikey why it didn't simply take control and kill them on sight. This was to be the first of its dark miracles; it had to be squeezed for every drop of possible pleasure that could be obtained from it. It was all so simple, yet enthralling.

Act all casual and chummy like then slowly, but surely, start making them feel uncomfortable. Pick away at their mistakes and insecurities, make their friends concern for them grow. One step at a time, lure them out of their comfort zone and coping mechanisms. When they are at the point when they are so far away from those pathetic defenses that there's no going back…reveal the truth to them in all of its cruel splendor. And then just sit back and cherish the fallout of fear produced.

And while such subtle, verbal gratifications had a pleasure and place all their own, Mad Mikey had had its fill of them for now. It was now planning on filling the terrible hunger that had been growling away for far too long, the same hunger Dawn felt in the muddled clouds of its aura. A hunger for mountains of human muscle and bogs of human blood. And Zoey would be the first to offer her services for these efforts, after Mad Mikey learned what she tasted like (probably chicken).

"So my goombahs and **droogies**, you may relax for the heavy part is through. Now it's time for something fun, something involving **you**. It's time for Zoey to become my dance partner as we waltz into the brave, new world of my reign. To have gorgeousness and georgeosity made flesh, **from her flesh**.

"And as for the rest of you, don't feel left out. You will get to dance in our danse macabre as well.

"Come with your humble judge and reformer! Hear all proper Hell's horns and devil's drums. You are invited!"

Mad Mikey then slightly tilted Mike's head and looked at the humans with lowered brows and a glowering grimace.

And that is how the time of judgment began…with an invitation, a smile…and twitching.

* * *

Twitching became shaking. Shaking became convulsing. The convulsing became violent. As the convulsing increased, Mike's body arched and his bones began audibly creaking. His body was almost thrashing around with great speed in ways that bodies cannot move.

None of the others could have known but this was the effect of the mental conditioning. Whereas before the transition from Mike to Mikey was subtle and without fuss, the demon now had to claw its way through many barriers of both the body and brain.

All of those present (with the possible exception of Dakota by simple virtue of having experienced such a transformation first hand) experienced a fear so strong that it almost seemed metaphysical, beyond human comprehension. As Mike's body was literally at war with itself, parts of it moved in unnatural ways.

The spectators to this most literal case of identity thief turned their attention to the horror happening to Mike's face. It was rippling within itself, with bumps rising and falling as if little unseen pistons were pumping without pattern beneath mocha skin.

Then they noticed Mike's chest, hidden behind the cerulean cloth of his shirt. It was also being pulled and pumped by pistons of equal or greater passion. The pumping of Mike's heart was being overpowered by something truly and literally heartless.

Along each of Mike's arms, a single bump, beginning at his shoulders, began moving downward. As they were slowly forcing their way through Mike's flesh, some of the more observant teenagers got a closer look at these two bumps. Each bump had four smaller bumps along the top with grooves in-between each of them. By the time they reached Mike's elbows, one or two of those watching had a revelation. They looked like hands, closed fists bearing knuckles smoothly punching through the skin as if it were spandex towards Mike's own hands.

It truly was like seeing one being trying to force its way into the body of another!

And that's how it felt to Mike as well. Normally Mike would have been most preoccupied by the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, butterflies with wings of razor-sharp steel. But other sensations felt under his skin got his attention much more, while it was still his anyway.

Among the sensations, one of the most unavoidable was the heat. Much of Mike's body felt like flames were consuming it. Try as he might, Mike couldn't help but imagine his bones becoming black and burned. His bones felt like the bones of a dragon, of a demon.

Mike felt a current of electricity, originating from his brain, surge through his muscles. Now gripped by a series of spasms, the teenager felt waves of a dark, hissing energy.

He felt Mad Mikey crackling and forcing its way through muscles belonging to Mike.

The energy rushed into the eyes. Green fire exploded behind them. In the space of a single blink, a blinding light, like a jade welding arc obscured everything Mike's eyes had seen. Everyone Mike knew and cared about appeared to have been nothing but glass as their images began shattering into a thousand pieces, all reflecting the irritated green.

One among those watching this sickening spook show felt this energy and turmoil. Dawn, for the second time today seeing more than most with eyes could see, took note of the added dimension of this hostile takeover.

The small room that they were in became the blinking eye of a hidden but growing storm.

As winds bearing wrath slammed into the minds of the humans, unseen and unfelt bolts from the aura of the dragon skewered them with fear.

The demon was concentrating, filling the lobby of Chris' theater with its palatable will. Furious and throbbing, it grew with a hunger for a reality that it wished to destroy. This hunger materialized itself as a cold, black lightning that lit the form of Mike, giving the demon the shining, savage sheen of crystalized coal. And coal doesn't crystalize.

Everyone was so taken aback by the unbelievable display that they failed to notice someone who had literally not said a single word since Mad Mikey surfaced was now saying a lot of them.

"Quick! We need an old priest and a young priest! The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"

Even in their terrified state, everyone turned with weird stares towards the source. If they weren't so overwhelmed with fear, they would have laughed at the irony of Chris MacLean, the most immoral man they ever encountered, now speaking in Christ's name.

The most unholy host stopped his insincere religious action at the looks of correct confusion sent his way. And yet while not capable of helping the situation one bit, that dose of idiocy spurred Zoey towards a course of action that just might.

"Mike! Can you hear me, Mike!?"

This then spurred Dr. Johnson (a lot spurring going on without any horses, uh?) to build on the base made by the one in the worst position should Mad Mikey succeed.

"Zoey has the right idea. Everyone, call out to Mike! We have to get through to him!"

And with that, just about everybody there began shouting and pleading to Mike.

"Come on soldier! I left you behind once in those caves and, by God, I won't stand for that again!" Brick barked with the seriousness of an active Marine Drill Sergeant.

"If you **'BLEEP'** this up, you'll never get to **'BLEEP'** Zoey!" Scott shouted.

"Remember how much ya hated Vito? Well do-a want that a million fold!" Anna Maria bellowed.

"Suck it up maggot! I'm not dying today just because you can't beat yourself up!" Jo angrily roared.

"Give it all you got skinny-boy! Your at the ten yard line at the Super-bowl!" Lightning said reflecting the best way to motivate himself.

"Come on buddy! You're at the final level and the boss is flashing red like a police siren!" Sam said, matching Lightning's response but choosing a different muse.

"You can beat him, Mike!" B said, setting a new record for himself by speaking twice in the same day.

"Your aura is strong Mike! I know you can prevail!" Dawn loudly proclaimed.

"Follow our voices Mike! Just follow the sounds of our voices! Trust me, I would know." Dakota said, remembering what happened to her not so long ago.

"You can do it Mike! I know you can! You've overcome so much!" Cameron said to his first and dearest friend.

"Mike, I know you can do this! You're the most amazing guy I've ever met. You've made me happier than I thought was possible. We need you so much Mike…**I need you so much**!" Zoey said with all of her heart and soul, almost on the verge of tears.

After that last most heartfelt plea, it finally seemed as if they were getting through to Mike. While his body was still moving wildly, some of those watching realized that the solid green eyes were now become less and less bright, with them changing to brown for a second or two every now and then. The teenagers calling out to Mike realized in joy that Mike was indeed fighting back, struggling for control of his own body with there pleads were making a difference.

They couldn't have known it but Mike was slowly seeing more and more of them as he was reclaiming himself from the demon. His vision was slowly becoming less fractured, less green.

He slowly started feeling his hands. He could move them. He could feel the blood pulsating in his veins…yes they were his veins! Mike was overcoming the demon!

The demon seemed to realize this as it increased its efforts. Not only did Mike's body begin thrashing in greater fury but it began to growl. As Mike's voice yelled in agony, the animalistic snarls and roars seemingly from another world clashed with human yells.

Seeing the struggle for Mike's soul, for the world's future, intensify; the teenagers increased their efforts in reaching out to Mike. This was it, the beginning of the end. The outcome of this mental duel would determine the course and very continuation of human history.

Even as they teenagers kept yelling at the tops of their lungs, their voices were drowned out. What overpowered their concerned cries were the sounds of the primal: the cracking of bones, the tearing of muscles, the thunderous cries of the beast, the angry growls of the young man at war with himself.

It all rose to such a terrifying tempo. The atmosphere in the room became so charged and tense that it felt like a single match would send them all sky high. In their panic, a few even thought they saw bolts of electricity travel through Mike's black spiky hair (which had happened).

After one last massive upsurge from Mike's snapping spine, the teenager was hunched over. His head had nearly fallen to his lap. Not a single muscle was moved. The only activity was a heaving chest and heavy breathing.

Once again, it would be Dr. Johnson who would ask the simple but all-important question amidst of heavy breathing. A question nothing more than a name.

"Mike?"

The body of the young man with mocha skin raised its head, eyes closed.

As the eyes were being opened, everyone waited with held breath. The air seemed to have suddenly become dry and heavy. This was the moment of truth. Would they find the brown eyes brimming with humanity or the green gaze of something that was a brother to dragons? Either way, there was no going back.

* * *

With the lids now fully resided into the skull, everyone saw it. They saw that the eyes looking back that them were…**brown**!

The most beautiful brown a person could ever hope to see. A brown of warmth and life.

As Mike looked at all of his friends and follow humans, he had the biggest smile one could hope to see. A smile beaming with unrestrained graduate and ecstasy.

Everyone in the lobby had varying looks of relief and delight on their faces. But some had expressions with more to say.

Cameron was experiencing a burden being lifted from his shoulders. His closest friend had not succumbed to a twisted being.

Dawn felt a feeling of freedom rush over her; now no one would ever have to see the horrors that she was forced to be a witness to. The future would a stronger, loving one.

Dakota was in the shining light of hope; hope that she too could overcome her demon.

And then there was Zoey. As Mike looked at her especially with eyes sparkling with affection, Zoey returned that stare ten fold. The concern that she had developed for both Mike and herself cannot be expressed accurately in words. The same goes for the relief.

But even Zoey's happiness could not surpass that of Dr. Johnson's. He was bursting in the throngs of rapture. This tormented young soul had been saved! There was hope that Mike could be rid of this parasite once and for all, among hope for other things.

In his excitement, Dr. Johnson abandoned all formal etiquette and hugged Mike's still sitting form. Overwhelmed by this act and his emotions, Mike closed his eyes.

As he did, the doctor spoke with a voice full of elation as he said.

"That was too close Mike! I was almost afraid that Mad Mikey had gotten the better of you!"

There was a pause.

**"I did."** Mike said with his eyes still closed. But the voice that came to the doctor's ears was a low, menacing raspier. The voice of Hell.

Dr. Johnson's jubilation withdrew as rapidly as the tide before a massive tsunami. With his face frozen next to Mike's, the doctor with a voice barely above a panicked whisper responded.

"W…wh…what?"

The same raspier spoke with a certain bluntness, mixed with a sense of gleeful relish. All of the recently won hopes and optimism were about to be destroyed with six words.

"**You're talkin' to the wrong Mikey."**

With that, Mike smirked and his eyes opened as quick as a flash. Revealing **bright green**!

In the very same instance that its eyes opened, Mad Mikey grabbed the doctor threw him down onto the floor in a single violent movement. Dr. Johnson was out cold.

As dramatic as the moment was, it was slightly betrayed by Mad Mikey trying to stand up but his legs almost buckling under Mike's weight. It had to get use to physical legs.

Seeing this, one of the 12 teenagers got a thought in his head. A rare occurrence by the way. If this bad big psychopath couldn't even stand on his own two feet, then beating him should be a breeze. And there would be more than a breeze when it had…Lightning!

Moving to the front of the stunned campers, the jock, out of a bruised ego and piles of vainglory, began to address the others. He went to the space right in front of Mad Mikey.

"Sha-stand-back! I, Lightning, not the weakling Cameron, shall defe…**ACK**!"

Before Lightning could deliver the epic hero speech he had envisioned, Mad Mikey, without hesitation or shaky limb, grabbed the black athlete by the throat.

With a stare of annoyance, the demon lifted Lightning in the air so that his legs were kicking frantically off the ground.

Gasping for breath, all of the pride and confidence in Lightning melted away. Replaced by a very real concern about his own safety, the athlete tried to be something he never was before, apologetic.

"Uh… Sha-friends?"

Without any change in its face aside from a mildly pestered contemplation, Mad Mikey asked the jock a rhetorical question in the deadest of dean-pan manners.

"How did someone as pathetic as you make it as far as you did?"

With that, Mad Mikey slapped the proud player across both of his cheeks multiple times. Each slap had the force of being hit by a block of concrete.

As Mad Mikey slapped Lightning, it thought something. With his vanity and pretension, Lightning was the perfect symbol for humanity's true nature. And every slap confirmed humanity's place, as it's bitch to be beaten and mauled and burned.

Having thoroughly shown his superiority, the demon then punched Lightning. Though to the dark genie freshly freed from the bottle the punch was greatly restrained, it was enough to send the superstar in training flying into a nearby wall.

The force of Lightning hitting the wall was great but it was slightly less than it should have been. When Lightning fell to the floor, the reason was revealed to all.

Staci had been unlucky enough to be at the exact spot where Lightning hit the wall. She was now out cold, with the Lightning knocked out on top of her.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

Scott was looking into the camera with massive, satisfied smile on his face.

Without saying anything, the ginger took out the green light blub from the trauma chair.

Pressing the button, the green light blub glows and makes a buzzing sound.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

The rest of the contestants slowly turned to stare in shock and horror at the body of Mike, jaws dropped and speechless. In less than a minutes' time, Mad Mikey had rendered three people unconscious, one of them being Lightning, the most physically capable and threating compotator in all of the seasons of Total Drama (with the possible exception of Eva). And he had been smacked aside as if he were, well, Cameron.

Many thoughts buzzed in the brains of the remaining humans in that theater's lobby: Pandora's box was opened, the genie was freed from the lamp, Satan had flung his way out of Hell, and any number of other mythological analogies for when the preverbal **'BLEEP'** has literally hit the actual fan!

Mad Mikey smugly marveled at this simple but impressive demonstration of its power.

Turning its attention to all of the other teenagers, the creature controlling Mike's body thrilled at the sight of a gallery of gaping mouths and frightened faces.

It had been far too long since it felt the joys of seeing the terror in the faces of others. Since it saw them quake in fear at only the slightest proof of its power and will. Since it reveled with gleeful abandon in the wake of the horror that it instilled from others, knowing it would never be removed. Not even in whatever moments of intimacy they may still squeeze out before their fiery deaths.

It was beautiful!

After a few moments of taken in the beauty of it all, Mad Mikey spoke to its audience. It had their strictest attention.

"Now that that storm has passed, back to business."

With a motion as fluid and scolding as molten metal, the demon moved Mike's arm and placed Mike's hand around the throat of the redhead. Lifting Zoey into the air and seeing her kicking the air as wildly as Lightning, the being was savoring and preparing for the beginning of its ascending into amoral godhood. Even as a force in its infancy with less than a minute of life in the real world behind it, Mad Mikey had to regulate its strength. The restrained power in Mike's arm made Zoey feel more akin to glass than a human.

But she could not be shattered like glass…not yet, anyway. It wasn't strong enough yet. But it could easily beat her to death with many strikes. Nothing was there to oppose it.

And it knew that!

With all the time it desired, the monster moving Mike's limbs brought Zoey's face so that it was right in front of her lover's. Except the eyes she was forced to look into were not the beautiful brown eyes of Mike that shimmered with love and affection. Instead what the frightened sixteen year saw was a seething green predatory gaze so intense that she almost wondered if molten beams of jade would be blasted into her skull. There was no wetness or organic tissue to these eyes, only cold green energy and stark flashing power.

As the eyes remained so cold and intense, the rest of Mike's face didn't. Drawing Mike's lips back in a manner matching that of a ravenous carnivore, Mad Mikey smiled a terrible smile. Even with the vice like grip around her throat that could crush it like a beer can, Zoey felt a new and even stronger wave of woe ripple through her trebling form.

Her mind brought her back to when she and Mike were playing their game in the forest. She remembered Mike's smile, a corny and overdramatic attempt to mask all of the beautiful and heartfelt sentiments he had for her. But now, the same face, Mike's face, had nothing beautiful or heartfelt. No concealed affections for her, no love hidden by a mask of revealed teeth. All it had was the Devil's smile, genuine and savage at the powerlessness and fear it forced onto her.

Zoey felt fear. Zoey felt fear from **Mike's** **face!**

With fear overpowering all rational thought, Zoey weakly asked, "M-Mike?"

Mad Mikey, with its gruesome grin growing, did not confirm or deny being Mike. Instead, the devil with eyes of energy added fuel to the fire of Zoey's internal torment.

"I'm so happy you have a penchant for the color red. By the time I'm done with you Zoey, you'll be red all over. All over the walls. And the floor. And the ceiling."

Despite reveling in the look of fright on Zoey's face, Mad Mikey than brought it's attention to seemingly nothing. And yet it was speaking to everything, in it's mind.

'_Hello readers through the prism of the screen!_

_It seems we've gone Meta for a motive unseen. _

_What a time for you to wait for the story to continue._

_With me about to dismember Zoey sinew from sinew._

_So will dear Zoey here die for the sake of my glee?_

_All I can offer is this invitation…**Come and See!**'_

* * *

"**When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come and see!" I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hell was following close behind him." -The Bible's Book of Revelation **

**What the…? Did anyone else notice that thing with the poetry at the end before the Bible quote? All well, it's probably nothing. **

**Once again, I must say that I'm so sorry for the really long wait. Some parts of this chapter (especially the talks Mad Mikey has with Dakota, Cameron, and Zoey) took me so long to write. And I'm honestly not even sure if the talks are all that great? I hope it was worth the wait. I'm interested in particular to see the reviews for this chapter!**

**So, a few words about Mad Mikey. As you have likely guessed, Mad Mikey is a far darker character than you were initially led to believe (even though I'm sure most of you saw that coming a mile away). There are models for this character ranging from characters in many forms of fiction (movies, books, tv shows, video games, internet series) and many real-life serial killers. At the endnotes of the last chapter I said that some of the models for Mad Mikey were Izzy, the various characters from **_**Looney Tunes**_**, Groucho Marx, Gir from **_**Invader Zim**_**, and Deadpool. And they are. However, there are some other characters and real-life persons who were an even greater help in modeling the character.**

**Those greater models include: the Joker (both from **_**The Dark Knight**_** and **_**Batman: The Animated Series**_**), both Rorschach and the Comedian from **_**Watchmen**_**, Kid Marvelman/Miracleman from Alan Moore's run on **_**Marvelman/Miracleman**_**, Kirby from the amazing Internet series **_**There Will Be Brawl**_**, and Alex from **_**A Clockwork Orange**_** (mainly the movie since I haven't read the book).**

**The two single biggest models were not so much in relation to how the character acts or talks (like many of the previously mentioned main models) but to its core. The first of these is Satan. And while that seems like a no-brainer, I have a lot of reasons for doing so and some of them are not the ones that you would think of at first. While I'll be borrowing from countless books and films versions of Satan, the two greatest will likely be John Milton's **_**Paradise Lost**_** and Mark Twain's **_**Letters from the Earth**_**. The second is someone you likely have never heard of before: Carl Panzarm. He was a serial killer in America during the 1920's but why he's such an influence for Mad Mikey is that he truly wanted to kill every single person on Earth and he had a philosophy of hatred to back him up. I believe a statement from Harold Schechter's excellent book **_**The Serial Killer Files**_** which was my introduction to Carl Panzarm sums it up perfectly: "However appalling their crimes, America's other infamous serial killers were no match for Panzram in terms of sheer hard-bitten fury. Locked in a jail cell with Panzram, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, or Jeffery Dahmer would have ended up becoming his bitch."**

**Also, I realize that I have Mad Mikey talking so much in this chapter and I hope that's not a problem for anyone. But seeing how this is the chapter that's the character's true introduction and that it has had these thoughts for years, it just made sense for it to say so much in the chapter. I hope you at least enjoyed it when Mad Mikey talked so much. **

**I know this is going to make this endnotes super long (to an already super-long chapter over fifty pages long) but there are some things that I must explain:**

**(1) As Mad Mikey says, most of the words in Dr. Johnson's conditioning are Latin words. Here is the meaning of each word along with the language that the word comes from: ****Derkesthai (LATIN: Dragon) Übermensch (GERMAN: Superman or Over-man)****…Dona Eis Requiem (LATIN: Grant** **Them Rest)…Sempiternam (LATIN: Everlasting). So what the doctor is actually saying to summon Mad Mikey is: "Dragon Over-man…Grant Them Rest…Everlasting." A funny side-note; the words "Dona Eis Requiem" were actually from **_**Monty Python and the Holy Grail**_**, in the scene in which the monks march while hitting there heads with books as they chant that real Latin funeral phrase. Let me know if you have any interest in knowing what the words used by Dr. Johnson in the second chapter actually mean, ok? **

**(2) This is actually a brilliant little bit from the classic **_**Simpsons**_** episode "The Last Temptation of Homer". In the script of this episode, what they describe this as is the following: "[wolf-whistles, makes a cat noise, imitates a bed squeaking, purrs, pants, barks, howls, twiddles his lips] Hubba, hubba!" For reasons that should be clear, aside from the "Hubba, hubba" I couldn't use that directly. Therefore, I had to experiment with onomatopoeia while also showing you what it was meant to show you here because it proved very tricky and I'm not sure I really nailed it. A funny side-note to a side-note, the build up to that bit and the "HOLY MACARONI" were taken directly from another great **_**Simpsons**_** episode "Treehouse of Horror VI", in the final segment 'Homer3'. **

**(3) Yes, the first hydrogen bomb ever not only destroyed an entire island but also was actually nicknamed 'Mike'. I knew I HAD to use that after discovering that! However I encountered some differences between sources in concern to the date and power of the blast. As far as the dates, some say October 31****st**** and others say ****November 1****st****. I suspect that this might be because of the time-zone difference between America and the South Pacific where the bomb was actually tested. However, I haven't really looked into it so don't quote me on that. And the differences in terms of the blast are some say it was 500 times more powerful than the blast over Hiroshima while others say it was 750 times more powerful. I decided to go with October 31****st**** as the date because that would mean it happened on Halloween (cue dramatic music, flashing lightning, and Vincent Price laugh) and 750 times as the power of the blast because it is more impressive (even though 500 times is nothing to laugh at either). Again, I must stress that I haven't looked into this in any real detail and if anyone knows that I'm wrong, please let me know. **

**And lastly, here is what the words in ****Newspeak (from George Orwell's **_**1984**_**) and Nadsat (from Anthony Burges' **_**A Clockwork Orange**_**) actually mean: ****Krovvy (Blood), Doubleplusgood (Really good), Oldthink (Thinking Before Some Great Change), Guttiwuts (Guts), Real Horrorshow (Really Good), Droogies (Friends), Afterlunch (Afternoon), Panhandle (Erection), ****Appy Polly Loggies (Apologies), Sammy (Generous), ****In-out-in-out (Sex). ****You're on your own when it comes to the Latin words. They are nasty!**

**Without anything else to say, come and see in the next chapter if this is the end! ****Until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word!**

* * *

'_Oh, before I forget, dear readers…_

'_Roses are red, violets are blue._

_Leave a long, detailed review_

_Otherwise, the next one red all over_

_Just might be…__**YOU**__!''_

* * *

**Ok, what the Hell? The poetry thing just happened again!**


	5. Teeth and Ambitions

**Author's Notes: As we arrive at chapter five, this story is still alive! It's alive, it's alive, it's alive…IT'S ALIVE! (This will make sense after reading this chapter). ****Once again, I must thank those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! You guys/girls are beyond awesome and I'm always very happy to see your numbers growing with each new chapter posted! **

**I know you all must be shocked at how quickly this chapter was posted…I know I am. But I can explain why. As you likely know, chapter four took me a just under two months to write. But many of the times were I struggled with that chapter, I would jump over to the next one since I already knew exactly would was going to happen. As a result, over 2/3s of this chapter had been finished when chapter four was posted. To those of you who have been too busy with middle school, high school, college, or jobs to read the fourth chapter, I'm very sorry for piling another over 50-page chapter on you in only sixteen days. However after the super-long wait for the last chapter I felt obligated to get this one out as soon as I could. **

**I would like to thank the reviewers who pointed out that it's been some time since we've seen Mike. I knew that it had to be this way and it will still be a few chapters before we get to the first true Mike scene. However, because of the realization from reading those reviews (and the fact that he's one of the main characters), I added a scene focusing entirely on Mike at the beginning of this chapter that was originally going to go somewhere a little down the road. But it actually works better here than it would have where it would originally go. I hope this just goes to show that I actually do listen to and consider any suggestions or criticisms that are given to me. **

**Fairly near the beginning of this chapter there's a sequence that I'm especially proud of. Partly because it's the first major action sequence of the story (though its somewhat odd for a first action sequence) and there will be many more in this story. I won't say what it is but once you get to it you will likely know because it marks the first time that I'm trying the approach of comparing and contrasting very directly. Since there's at least one more instance where I plan on doing something like this sequence, please let me know if you think it's brilliant and artistic or heavy-handed and pretentious, ok? **

**Also, I must remind everyone that though I don't own Total Drama or its characters, I DO own Mad Mikey, Dr. Johnson, and this story. Therefore, if any one has the desire to somehow use these characters or scenes from this story in either their own stories or in their artwork, they need my approval first. This likely will never happen, I realize, but I just want to cover my bases just in case. **

**One last thing: this chapter was originally going to be only part of one but after realizing it would be slightly longer than the pervious, I knew I had to make its own chapter. Plus, it gave me the chance to use a different type of source for the end quotation, a source most if not all of you are likely familiar with. **

**Having said that, here's the fifth chapter of "Mad Mikey": Teeth and ****Ambitions**

* * *

What was happening? Was anything happening?

Did all of this only happen in Mike's head? Was this, all of this, just a dream?

If so, if Mike was merely dreaming, it wasn't a good dream.

It was a numbing dream, a dream of despair and of demons. **It was a nightmare.**

It had all happened so fast. He was happily making out with Zoey and then he was called to the amphitheater. After getting there, a guy in a devil costume came out and played some recorded words he didn't know or understand. But then everything went…**black**.

Immeasurable and infinite, the darkness presented itself to Mike without any detail that might have distracted him from the confusion and uncertainty gripping him. But then, a detail finally presented itself. It was an all-important detail. It was bright green eyes. Staring at Mike with that same demonic seeming as in last night's dream, these evil emeralds of eyes were no longer merely dreaming.

What came next Mike couldn't say. All that he knew when he came to was that he was again trapped in barren black. Except this time he was literally trapped because heavy chains around his wrists kept him to the floor.

He didn't have long to ponder where these chains came from as four figures suddenly appeared around him. Their features were unknowable because they were cloaked in shadow. What Mike could make out were there voices and intention. The voices came first. They were all familiar but Mike's mind couldn't wrap around how that could be.

"Well, well, well. What are we having?" A voice asked. While it was sinister, Mike was more puzzled by the Russian accent and slightly feminine tone of the clearly male voice.

"Lo-look. I don't want any trouble." Mike said, realizing his vulnerable state.

"Oh, you got trouble, guy. Right, pretty boys?"

"That's right. G'day Sheila! Looks like your reign as guv'nor is just about over, eh?" A second sinister voice inquired, this one's accent was an Australian one.

"W-who are…you?" Mike asked, becoming more alarmed by the situation every second.

"Hey yo! I don't think the lover boy here remembers us? Maybe we should help him?" The voice of a sinister "third man" suggested with its _Jersey Shore_-like accent.

"Now remember, you young whipper snappers! We can't treat him the way they were back in my day yet. But that doesn't mean we can't start giving a whooping to this little hippie punk, right?" The fourth and final figure whose face couldn't be seen with sinister speech asked the others, his voice grumpy and aged enough to be from another century.

And that's when the intention of the four figures was revealed…when they started to rain their fists down on Mike's trapped form. Unable to see because of the pitch-blackness surrounding him and unable to run because of the heavy chains, Mike simply curled up into a ball and tried to wait out the storm of blows.

After who could say how long, the downpour of blows finally ceased. But when that happened, Mike felt some kind of electrical current surge through the metal chains. As the humming of the current filled his ears, Mike let out an anguished howl that seemed to echo as if he were in some vast cave.

"**EEEEAAAGH! YIIIAAAGH! EEEEIIIIGHH!" **

In the void after his own howl had been silenced, Mike heard another voice echo. It was the same voice he heard in his dream. It was that horrible voice almost matching his own.

From that point onward, after listening to something about potato salad, Mike heard things more horrible than he could have imagined. He heard how the owner of the mock Mike voice wanted to kill every single person on Earth in ways that chilled him to the bone. But even that didn't compare to the terror Mike felt when he heard the voice reveal what it planned on doing to Zoey.

But then that terror for Zoey was eclipsed by pain. It was a pain the likes of which Mike never felt before. As his body felt some unexplainable energy force its way into him, Mike felt both searing agony and icy numbness in his limbs. While the pain demanded more attention at first, it was the numbness that was more unusual to Mike. His arms and legs felt like they were getting heavier and heavier. The shackles of the chains around his wrists didn't feel as tight; they were still there and just as confining but harder to feel.

But his fasciation with the numbness was brief as almost every part of his body was in the throngs of some suffering that words would be unless to describe to someone who hadn't experienced it for themselves. And no one else ever had experienced this before.

But then Mike heard something, the most beautiful sound in the world. He heard Zoey's voice.

"_Mike! Can you hear me, Mike!?" _

And then Mike heard all of the former contestants offer him words of encouragement. As familiar voices raised Mike's spirits more and more, each made the darkness not as black. But the one that really clinched the deal was the second hearing of Zoey's lovely voice.

"_Mike, I know you can do this! You're the most amazing guy I've ever met. You've made me happier than I thought was possible. We need you so much Mike…__**I need you so much**__!"_

That was the last bit of encouragement Mike needed. He might not have known where he was but he knew he had to get out of these chains. With all of his might, Mike pulled on the chains. As the memories of the friendships and relationship he formed filled his mind, Mike began to notice both the chains being pulled off the ground and some invisible force pushing down on him from above.

After struggling, Mike was shocked to discover that the shackles of the chains suddenly undid themselves. Once free, Mike felt himself slowly rising into the void-like sky. As he ascended higher and higher, the mocha-skinned teenager saw many spires matching the appearance and texture of glowing green glass. Though fractured, these emerald shards seemed to be braiding, becoming intertwined and whole again as Mike gently approached them. Still in the process fusing together, these pieces were becoming two massive white shining circles. The circles still had a faint green glow but it was becoming less and less. Through them, through his eyes, Mike saw the faces of everyone he held dear.

As he was almost at the same level as the spheres of now white light that were his own two eyes, Mike saw Zoey's beautiful face and thought nothing could spoil this moment.

But then…Mike felt some wrap around his ankle! Looking down, Mike saw it! For the first time ever, he saw the face of Mad Mikey!

Aside from the radiant eyes of energy, its face was almost identical to Mike's. It had his mocha skin and his black spiky hair. True that Mike could only see it partially because the only source of light was its own eyes. But Mike was thoroughly repulsed, by his own face.

With a smile most unpleasant, Mad Mikey whispered to Mike, who heard it as if Mad Mikey was right in his ear.

"Hi. I'm sorry to say but, Mike's…**not here today**."

With that, Mike felt himself be violently forced back down into the abyss he had thought he was about to escape. Slamming back on to the ground as black as everything else, the teenager found that the chains had shackled themselves to him once again. He once again felt the numbness, except this time it was total. If it weren't for barely being able to move his arms, Mike wouldn't have even realized that there were chains in the first place.

After all few moments, two massive spheres of light opened up before him. But instead of a bright white, the light cast off of these circles was a tinge of green. In there green field of vision was Zoey, with a look of absolute terror as she was being held in the air by her throat…by Mike's own hands!

For the first time since arriving in this horrible place, Mike broke down.

"Z-Zoey? Zoey! ZOEY! **OH MY GOD ZOEY…NO! **Come Mike, wake up! Wake up! Wake up! This has to be all has to be a nightmare…some terrible nightmare! This can't be for real! **IT JUST CAN'T BE! ZOEY! ZOEY!**"

* * *

Zoey was wondering the same thing. Could all of the events of this day just be a nightmare of unprecedented realism? Of unprecedented terror?

What other explanation could there be?

How else could it be that Mike, the person who Zoey cared for more than anyone, was now holding her in the air by her strained jugular? How else could Mike stare at her with those green eyes, those vicious incinerator eyes that brightly revealed nothing sane? How else could his voice, the most beautiful of sounds to her, now say that it wants her to die?

Over whelmed by these questions screaming in her panicked head, Zoey was truly isolated. Everything seemed to have been evaporated away by the eyes matching a furious furnace.

Zoey did not notice that the persona, the bad god cast in awful flesh within Mike's flesh, had moved her even closer to her lover's face. Were she not unreceptive to outside stimuli, Zoey would have felt the hot and dense breathing pushed onto her face. Mike's breath was so close to her face that one might have guessed that they were lovers, which they were once. Despite having his face, the breath did not come from Mike.

It was the breath of a dragon. It reeked of Hell's fire and stank of rotten corpses, as if the countless graveyards' worth of dead bodies it dreamed of leaving behind it in its wake were already there. It was heavy and longing, practically ignited Mike's throat with its burning desire for Zoey. But this was not a desire for the sake of lust or love. It was a desire for violence and vengeance, for her death.

Predator and prey, not human and human, both Mad Mikey and Zoey were in their own placid little worlds, islands of an ecstasy and anxiety totally opposite yet equally all-consuming. Everything else on Wawanakwa Island, the island that wasn't even an island, was merely part of a multi-colored black sea of the illusory. The islands of Mad Mikey and Zoey were islands as real as Wawanakwa Island, and this was about to proven.

"I've never been one for long, dramatic speeches so I won't beat around the bush and simply say…" A course, determined voice bursting with confidence that nether Mad Mikey or Zoey had ever heard before began saying.

As both of them left their own little worlds, they turned their heads saw a surprising sight. They saw thirteen soldiers who now were standing in-between Mad Mikey and the rest of those in the lobby aside from Zoey.

The members of this platoon were your standard cookie-cutter army platoon. There was a mix of young men of many different skin colors, heights, weights, and creeds. And yet there was nothing extremely remarkable about any of them.

In the front of this platoon was a man who was clearly the commander of the other twelve; a man wearing sunglasses with large intimidating lenses whose aged face reflected a man whose lead men for decades. Possibly viewing himself as a larger than life figure, it was this commander who addressed Mad Mikey and continued to do so when he had its attention.

"…drop the girl before I kick your **'BLEEPING'** ass!" The commander finished.

With that, the commander pulled out a portable radio. After pressing a button, he began talking into the radio.

"Hello, HQ. Come in HQ. This is Commander Knight, of Operation Dragon Slayer, over."

"_This is HQ. We read you loud and clear Commander. What is your status, over?"_

"We have confirmed the doctor's Code Yellow signal and have encountered the hostile. Awaiting conformation and further orders, over."

'_That's a roger, Commander. You have clearance for Operation Dragon Slayer. Engage and neutralize the hostile by less-lethal means, over and out."_

Mad Mikey was only partially listening to this exchange because it turned its green gaze towards the doctor still knocked out on the floor. It saw that something fell out of Johnson's pocket after he was knocked out, a small square electric device. This device had a small light at the top that was now blinking a yellow light at a quick pace.

Unknown to Mad Mikey, this device was Dr. Johnson's final fail-safe just incase it succeed in taking over Mike's body. Having learned to always expect the worst case scenario, Dr. Johnson made it part of his agreement with Chris that he was to be given a way to contact a platoon of the army on the "island's" border with Canada. Though he fought against it stubbornly because he assumed Mad Mikey taking control would equal massive ratings, Chris relented by both given Johnson the means to contact them and having them waiting outside of the theater entrance after the teenagers went inside.

"Uh? Knight…Dragon Slayer? That's so cute and just dripping in subtlety!

"Why don't you jarheads let me and the redhead continue discussing whether her funeral arrangements will need a coffin or a bucket? That way you FNG's can do something you might actually enjoy, like going to the Middle East to blow up some brown people!" Mad Mikey said, clearly not taking this sudden development as something it should be concerned with. But then it looked at Mike's mocha-skin and couldn't help but chuckle darkly at the irony.

"Cut this Mickey Mouse **'BLEEP' **you slimy twinkle toed little fudge packer unless you want to sign your own death warrant!" Commander Knight barked at Mad Mikey, not in a mood for these sorts of head games.

After quickly looking over the military men standing in front of it, Mad Mikey chuckled darkly once again.

"And what, precisely, are you going to use to sign my signature? I've taken in an eyeful of your dogface dodos, Colonel Klink, not an easy task by the way, and all I see is a pair of thick collapsed expandable batons on every last one of you. What happened, guns go out of fashion? Or are you going to try that peaceful, olive branch crap?"

True to what Mad Mikey had said, there wasn't a single gun in sight on any of the military men. Instead all of the platoon members including the commander had two batons that were at the moment collapsed but were capable of becoming three times larger by telescoping inner shafts that lock into each other when expanded. The exposed handles of these batons were much bigger than those of most collapsible batons, a dark grey color, and appeared to be made of some form of light metal.

"You hear that boys? This Section Eight and a Half doesn't think were packing heat. Shall we show him the newest proud member of the military armaments family?" Commander Knight asked his men in a clearly rhetorical manner while he grinned.

"Sir, yes sir!" All of the soldiers behind the commander said in unison.

With that, all of the soldiers and their commander drew their baton handles and pressed a button on those same handles. After these buttons were pressed, two expanded shafts increased the batons' lengths until they were roughly about the length of an average human arm. These extended parts were thinner than the handles but they were also made of a much harder metal and had what looked like blue nerves running along their lengths. And then everyone began hearing a faint humming as the blue lines began glowing. After about two seconds of these blue lines glowing, all of the extended shafts of the batons began to become a solid yet flashing white as well as becoming an overlapping series of arching electrical currents.

Everyone in the lobby, even Mad Mikey, was surprised by the reveal of these weapons. Literally having just been approved for official use a few weeks ago, this was the first time that these weapons were being used outside of testing. Their purpose was to combine two types of "less lethal weapons", a baton and a Taser. It had the power of a Taser but the flexibility of a baton. One strike from these weapons was enough to immobilize a limb or render someone unconscious if hit on the head. Either way, it hurt like a son of a bitch but caused no long term or serious damage (unless the one being hit had a heart condition).

And this is exactly what they wanted to happen, to stop Mad Mikey without killing Mike. In the same way that the police's Tasers stopped Mad Mikey's rampage but didn't hurt Mike when it appeared for the first time. And that aside, the press could paint the military in a very unfavorable light quite easily if it killed a teenage civilian (I wonder why?).

"Allow me to introduce you to the Extendable Stun Armament Systems and Procedures Batons, or as I personally like to call them, the Rods of God." The commander said with swagger to Mad Mikey before addressing his troops in regards to a recent problem in their ranks, "And remember men, if I hear one more goddamn _Star Wars_ joke out of any of you I will jam this rod so far up your ass that you won't be able to have a thought without it passing the handle!"

Mad Mikey was truly shocked by seeing these weapons, and more importantly these soldiers. It began feeling something it had never felt before. As this new emotion was setting itself into its mind, Mad Mikey noticed one of the soldiers closest to the commander looked especially ready for combat. Noticing this, Commander Knight addressed the soldier in question who had bright red hair similar to Scott's in coloring.

"Tell him how were feeling Private Kenny?"

"Like a bunch of mean mother-**'BLEEPERS'**, sir!"

"Damn straight!" Commander Knight said to Private Kenny proudly before returning his attention to Mad Mikey, "Now then, will you drop the girl and come quietly? Or will we have to tenderize you like a slab of beef first? "

The previously unknown emotion became stronger by the second. This emotion was fear. While Mad Mikey thought it could take these men right here and now, it didn't want to leave it to chance. After waiting over five years for this chance at freedom, it didn't want to risk it being spoiled by it only having control for less than five minutes. But even more than that, Mad Mikey feared that it wouldn't be able to fulfill its plan, to find the solace that it craved. It just needed a few more minutes to be sure it could take these men down.

Mad Mikey also felt like the universe was turning against it, almost as if a higher power was intentionally making it so it didn't kill Zoey right then and now by having these soldiers appear from seemingly nowhere (A silly notion, no?).

"Deus Ex Machina…thy name is contrived manipulated bull-'**BEEP'**!" Mad Mikey said before taking action.

What happened next marked Mad Mikey feeling fear for the first time…and the last time.

The savage persona loosed Mike's grip over Zoey's throat. As the girl fell to the floor and started rubbing her neck, Mad Mikey fled as if on swift wings into the theater.

Smirking at Mad Mikey's apparent cowardliness, Commander Knight gave out his orders to his men with concern nowhere to be found.

"Looks like I was right, this big bad boogieman is nothing but a pathetic coward with no bite to back up his bark. With him trapped in that theater, this shouldn't take more than ten minutes.

"Private Kenny, stay out here with the teenagers just in case he tries to leave the theater. Once they are out of your sight on their way to the Milton Medical Faculty, enter the theater and lock the door behind you so it has nowhere to run. Is that clear men?"

"Sir, yes sir!" All of the soldiers shouted in unison.

With that, all of the soldiers except Private Kenny entered the theater. The teenagers plus Chris and Chef left the theater as they carried Dr. Johnson, Lightning, and Staci.

The civilians marched towards the best brains in medicine and the most perfect of imperfect medical technology, a shelter against the growing storm.

The soldiers marched towards fantastic terrors and magnificent horrors of another time filtered through the prism of lost childhood innocence, the heart of the growing storm.

* * *

Commander Knight decided that it was best for the men to become three groups as they each checked a major area within the theater. Nothing was out of the ordinary except that for whatever reason Mad Mikey had ripped many of the seats roughly from the center. As a result, there was a massive space in the center unhindered by the presence of chairs. The teams were now reporting back to the commander right in front of the movie screen.

"Team one, you find anything yet?" Commander Knight asked the first group of men, who had looking through the seats of the theater.

"Nothing yet, sir!" One of the men from Team One responded.

"Team two, have you found any sign of him?" Commander Knight asked the second team, who had just returned from looking behind the theater screen.

"Not a thing, sir!" One of the men from Team Two responded.

"What about you, Team Three?" Commander Knight said to the third team, who just returned from checking the projection booth.

"We haven't found **'BLEEP'**! Sorry sir but we've searched this place from tits to toes and there's no sign of a wacko anywhere." One of the men from Team Three responded.

Right after the men from Team Three spoke to the captain, they heard the door to the theater lock.

"Private Kenny?" Commander Knight asked.

"Sir, yes sir!" Private Kenny responded.

"Private Kenny, did he try to leave the theater?"

"No, sir! He's still in here, and now the door's lock, sir!"

"Fan-'**BLEEPING'**-tastic! Get down here solider!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"You hear that Coco puff; you're locked in here with us now! We may not have found you yet but there's no way out now! There's no escape!" Commander Knight shouted to the un-located Mad Mikey.

From a location unspecified, Mad Mikey heard him. With it having been fifteen minutes, enough time had passed. Now that all thirteen of the soldiers were locked in here with Mikey and unable to escape, it was time for the opening show, for the animated short before the movie at the matinée. But before the animated short…there was **darkness**.

"What the **'BLEEP'**! What happened to the lights?" One of the soldiers asked in alarm.

But it was true; all of the lights had suddenly switched off. Turning the theater into an abyss of pure black aside from the shining white of the soldiers' electric batons.

"Steady men, he's just trying to turn the element of surprise to his side. Turn off your batons, men. Conserve your baton's charge. Unless you fancy sticking out like a black man at a KKK meeting, turn off your batons and switch to your night vision goggles." Commander Knight said to his men in a perfectly clam and matter-of-fact tone.

The men did so and now saw the endless black as a shade of green light. Another being saw the black as green, but it wasn't wearing any night vision goggles. It was above the soldiers, looking at one object on the theater's floor. With a silent descent from the rafters, Mad Mikey grabbed the heavy object and carried it to the rafters without a sound.

After several minutes of climbing with the cumbersome object, it reached the projection booth.

As it did, Commander Knight shouted at the hostile from the darkness, "You can't hide forever, unless you want this movie theater to be your funeral home!"

Looking down from the projection booth, Mad Mikey thought about this.

'_This is not a funeral home! It's not a movie theater either!'_

Mad Mikey had replaced the reel of footage taken by Dr. Johnson with something else. As the air was filled by the sound of one of Mike's fingers flicking on the switch of the projector, Mad Mikey's mind was filled by the sound of a single thought.

'_Welcome…to __**HELL**__…mean mother-__**'BLEEPERS**__!'_

* * *

A beam of moving light charged from the projector far above the soldiers towards the massive movie-screen and forced its contents upon it. An image appeared which was as awe-inspiring as it was haunting. For it would prove to be the overture to the concert of horror.

And it would be the most horrifying thing imaginable…a classic Disney cartoon! **(1)**

_A village is seen as both it and the sky above it are bathed in blues of many hues. But what draws the eyes to it most is a massive mountain that is jagged and barren of any tress. Irradiating an ominous glowing green, the mountain is Bald Mountain. _

_As the camera slowly starts to move towards the Peak of Bald Mountain, screeching violins are heard. Wailing against the wicked event about to unfold. _

_Reaching the top, the peak starts to move. With a booming blast of brass for each, two massive objects violently force themselves through the blue winds. As these objects (proven to be massive wings) move, an imposing form is seen with a body bathed in black while its eyes glow brightly in contrast to the darkness. Both the darkness of its surroundings and its core. _

Mad Mikey was hidden in the rafters of the theater, its body bathed in black. It looked down on the sad saps below it with its shining jade eyes, as a god would stare at the mortals from Mount Olympus.

_This is Chernabog, god and personification of all that is evil. With the brass blasting away ever more brazen, the god of evil stretches out its arms. Casting a long shadow down the mountainside and over all of those beneath it, the already doomed. _

_As the long shadow of the demon spreads over the recently executed, a castle destroyed by some unknown war, and a cemetery not on sacred ground, the pale ghostly skeletal spirits of the dead began to appear. Joined by a lower and somewhat screeching score, they are lightly whisked away as if they were leafs caught in an updraft. _

The soldiers, after removing there night vision goggles due to the bright light coming from the moving images on the massive movie screen, did what they were trained to do, become a single unit as they formed a tight circle.

_Their innocence or guilt in life matters not._ _All of the souls beneath the shadow would be swept away. _

Some of the young men at arms were then startled as a loud sound was heard crashing to the theater's floor. On the orders of their commander, they moved towards the location as a single mass. They would never discover what created this crash.

_To music expressing the grand procession of the profane, spirits of all shapes and sizes rush towards their damned destination as a single mass made up of stubborn ideals and bad consciences. _

_As the music picks up in gusto, the camera moves in to better display the ghastly ghouls. There are witches riding on brooms. There are souls shaped as sheets that stare. There are specters sat on bulls of bone. _

As they began approaching the center of up-turned chairs, where the sound came from, many of the soldiers were becoming increasingly unnerved by the music and visuals that they couldn't stop. Several of them primed their electric batons for combat.

_Among them are soldiers, already slain but oblivious, who refuse to lower there weapons, ignorant of their uselessness. _

"Keep it together men! Stay focused! Ready your batons!" The commander said to his troops (sensing their growing unease) as he prepared his own set of electric batons.

_But the most prominent of the phantasms is a fallen king. Mounted on a mare of marrow, the might-less military master points his sword towards the demon. His efforts encourage the loudest proclamation from the background score. _

_Joined in a massive swirling wind that climbs towards the peak of evil, the spirits appear to be both compelled by and opposed to the god of evil. But for all of their former glory, the opening move belonged to the demon. _

With a bloodcurdling scream, a shape falls from the rafters onto the mass of men. Recovering from the disorientation of the strike as they stand up, they discovered what it was that knocked them down, the object Mad Mikey grabbed before turning on the projector…**who** it was that was thrown into them. It was Private Kenny, now out cold with both of his arms and legs broken along with his electric batons missing.

_Nothing more than a smack from Chernabog. _

"Jesus Christ! What the **'BLEEP'** is this **'BLEEP'**!" One of the soldiers said in horrified alarm.

"Oh my god, he got Kenny!" Another soldier said in an equal state of apprehension.

"That bastard!" A third solider said for the fourth in orange…hair.

_With a laughing smile silent of a laugh and a glint of profane pleasure at its action, the god of evil summons the fires and furies of Hell. _

_As the flames of damnation grow, the ghouls from beneath the graves of mortal men come to express their approval in a ballet at the beast's bastard carnival. _

Glowing in the red-yellow flashes of Hell and the dance of the demon's Sabbath, Mad Mikey leapt down into the fires of combat.

_In their jubilation, some of the denizens of damnation's kingdom failed to realize that the colossal and jagged claws of their mountain master fell about them. _

Once hitting the ground, Mad Mikey readied the blots of lightning, taken from Private Kenny, to begin its first duty as this world's Zeus. As a being of highest judgment.

_Scurrying through rough fingers, perhaps praying for gentler hands, they are thrown into the flames of their own chosen torment as their brothers in brimstone dance on with even greater purpose. _

As two of their fellow soldiers were struck by this first wave of wattage and collapsed, their brothers in arms lunged at the emerald-eyed enemy.

_Their demonic comrades facing on all sides their darling deterrent, turned against them. _

With the speed and skill of an exceptional human, Mad Mikey's electric batons clashed with those of the military men now surrounding it. For all of their training and will, the soldiers couldn't connect a single strike. As for Mad Mikey, it would be mere minutes until it passed beyond the abilities of even the most exceptional of humans.

_All of the damned display becomes covered in swirling pillars of satanic smog, in the amorphous and amoral atmosphere stretching from Chernabog. _

_Sweet sounding flutes and brief bombast is heard as Chernabog's claw is seen with a few fleeting flames in its palm._

The sparks of conflict cast from these sabers of light filled the darkened room in an additional afterglow. Despite giving it they're all, some of the soldiers notice something.

_With a malicious grin revealed at every stage, the fires are distorted so they possess the semblances of elegant dancers, barnyard animals, and blue fiends. There being so racially affected is an effortless exercise for something beyond their depth. _

Mad Mikey wasn't even breathing hard. It was toying with them.

_A brief return of menacing music is accompanied by Chernabog's fist as it closes around them. Ending their existence, just to end its pleasure._

_In their place came several sapphire spirits in the likeness of Satan that were bopping in celebration at the actions of the dark god. _

_The face of that same deity of damnation is reached as the camera moves away from the smaller demons. Its face is a smile as sinister and savage as the flames that intensify and consume all around them. _

_As the ghouls dance with greater fervor, the blue surroundings becoming blood red. _

The time for games had past. All of the demon's remaining moves would each only occupy a few seconds. But every move was pregnant with such damaging details.

_Sprouting from the soil covered in Hell's soot, massive swirling pillars of flame in both blue and green shoot skyward. _

Pushing off of the ground and flipping in mid-air, Mad Mikey positioned itself on a wall.

_Pyres of purple present themselves with silhouettes of wicket women within them. Tempting the souls lost in perdition before a violent surprise. _

With legs muscles matching metal coils, Mad Mikey launched itself at the mass of men.

_A ghoulish head devoid of features save for large darken eyes, a small nose, and vampire fangs flies straight at the camera, straight at the soldiers. _

Mad Mikey crashes onto the floor near the soldiers with great velocity, ready to surpass the now stunned men with electrical arms.

_A wide terrain where rock and fire are unnatural equivalents shows a skyline saturated with harpies. A human skull flies straight at the soldiers. _

Mad Mikey's electric batons moved in unorthodoxy and yet also in precise motions.

In the confusion and dust kicked up by the demon's forceful landing, one of its electric batons strikes a soldier on the head. **Rendered unconscious.**

Taking further advantage of the frail senses of its opponents, the demon leapt into the air while flipping Mike's body into the air before the dust cleared.

_The shades of the dead, frail and black, fall into the rolling pyres of Pandemonium._

Reaching its airborne arc, Mad Mikey began its dynamic descent with its electric batons moving to neutralize any volleys from the other turbo-charged truncheons.

_A specter with the shape of a sheet with long, thin arms and glowing eyes flies straight at the soldiers. _

Right before returning to the fancy fabric floor, one of the dark god's lightning blots slammed its pulsating power into another soldier's head. **Rendered unconscious.**

_A hell-born hurricane of gale-force green flames sends the forsaken aloft, closer to the heavens that have rejected them. _

Back on the ground, Mad Mikey notices one of the fools charging towards him from behind. With a motion of one of Mike's strengthened legs, the soldier's own leg is caught. With a single flick, the unlucky warrior is sent towards the rafters.

_One of the countless harpies clutches an unidentifiable slain soul with its buzzard-like talons. The struggling shade in red falls into an abyss of black and blue._

As Mad Mikey negates the attacks of the others, the solider sent skyward comes falling back to the demon. With a swipe to the back and above, one of Mad Mikey's electric batons strikes the solider falling out of sight and memory. **Rendered unconscious.**

_As some harpies nearly collide in clouds of cruelty, one flies straight at the soldiers. _

Not learning from his comrade's mistake, another soldier charges Mad Mikey, this time from the front. With the other leg, raised above Mike's black hair spines, the demon slammed the limb with a downward strike to the soldier's head. **Rendered unconscious.**

_A second circling of flying monsters takes place within the smoke of suffering. _

Having slain two modern warriors with Mike's legs, the demon was caught by something rare, a surprise. A lucky strike amid flailing attacks caused an electric baton to hit the handle of one of Mad Mikey's, neutralizing it.

_Another of Hell's harpies flies straight at the soldiers. _

Hoping to take advantage, the soldier is unable to stop the demon from grabbing the handle of his weapon. Crushing both it and the hand holding the weapon in its grip, Mad Mikey strikes with its other weapon at the head of fortune's fool. **Rendered unconscious.**

_Moving with greater velocity, a skull with winds streaming behind it flies straight at the soldiers. _

Finding the Fates against it for now, another haphazard assault deactivates the demon's other weapon. Taking fate into its own hands, Mad Mikey grabs a nearby solider and uses his weapons while its iron grip holds his limbs. In their panic, the platoon members hit their comrade in several places, including the head. **Rendered unconscious.**

_Matching the swiftness of the speeding skull, a specter bathed in red with a white face flies straight at the soldiers._

Taking the most recent of the semi-departed's weapons, Mad Mikey continued its siege. Two parries of white light each stunned an arm belonging to the same soldier. Followed by another to the head. **Rendered unconscious.**

_A specter devoid of feature aside from a sheet-like outline and glowing eyes flies straight at the soldiers. _

Finding only three targets left, Mad Mikey turned off one of the electric batons it was holding. Falsely taking this as a sign of opportunity, one of the remaining three charged forward. Mad Mikey developed a small smirk on Mike's face as it grabbed the fool and slammed him hard against the nearby wall. With a single motion, the remaining electric baton was used. Leaving a faint burn mark on the wall, as well as the soldier's head. **Rendered unconscious.**

With both electric batons back on, Mad Mikey fended off the remaining regular and commander with one each. As it did, it noticed the ground, covered in the unconscious bodies of slain men and the dropped weapons of slain men literally at Mike's feet. While preserving itself against the pulsating parries of the final two, Mad Mikey began moving Mike's feet so rapidly that the men fighting for their lives didn't notice. With every movement of Mike's feet, one of the fallen fighters' electric batons was not only sent into the air but also activated. In a matter of seconds, the only two standing in Mad Mikey's way were trapped in a rain of raw radiance as the their florescent fangs were falling.

_A skull with a fanged upper-jaw and no bottom jaw flies straight at the soldiers. _

The fangs flickered as they fell. Amongst the angst of combat, the dual duelists are unable to stop the more than a dozen beckons of burning brightness from plummeting upon them. The remaining regular has his body showered by sparks, including his head that was hit several times. **Rendered unconscious.**

But the commander of his now pulverized platoon, a soldier to the last, was still conscious. However, the encased electricity had paralyzed both of his arms and one of his legs. As the proud leader of military men reluctantly kneeled in the presence of Mad Mikey, the dark god looked down and grinned at his superficial submission.

_The massive face of Chernabog is seen with the winds now thick with souls of slain men, its expression changes from delight to disgust._

Mad Mikey primed the electric batons and raised them above Mike's spiky black hair.

_With one final thunderous proclamation from the score, all of the flame and suffering of this demon's night is sent skyward. _

As paralyzed arms had disarmed its final quarry, Mad Mikey has the batons held tightly in Mike's coffee-colored fingers turned into clenched, violent fists.

_The armament of agony glows faintly on what it is destined to strike while remaining unseen. _

Looking up in primal terror, the commander's confidence was gone. All that remained was a defeated face staring into an abyss that gazed back with sparking white eyes.

_As a solid pillar of fire rapidly descending towards its target, __**Hell itself struck**__!_

The irises without iridescence admit white pure as snow descend with determination.

_With arms raised in victory, Chernabog's black body is covered in a blinding flash of granite white._

As the final note of the score is blasted, the body of the final solider falls. **Rendered unconscious. **

For a second seemingly stretched beyond its purpose, dark still silence reigned supreme both on the screen and in the theater.

_Ready for further horrors, Chernabog eagerly leers over the lesser spirits shanghaied into being its minions. _

_But then, joined by a light of blue in lightest hue, there was a ringing. _

Mad Mikey simply stands over its conquest.

_After the slight sapphire shining revealed the char colored Chernabog, the maker and mover of this night's Hell is interrupted. Flashing a rare expression of uncertainty, the dark god looks around. Finding only the consistent coloring of coal and the sound of silence, that disturbance is ignored as it returns its attention to the suffering slain with amber eyes wide and rocky claws primed. _

Mad Mikey watches over the men who lie on the theater's floor.

_Chernabog, that which was a moment before all-powerful, is stopped once again by blue light, the forbearer of the coming dawn. The beginning of brand new day is joined by a second ringing, from church bells of brass as they start sacredly singing._

Mad Mikey made no detectable movements in the blue light of the movie screen.

_The Slavic dark god reacts with instinctual fright, cowering at this slight presence. But then its power and pride reenter its mind as its expression changes to one of great vengeance and furious anger. With fists clenched, it's yellow eyes burned with will._

_Will that withered away in the presence of the light. The creature responsible for this Walpurgis Night finds itself feeble as it covers its fear-filled face with one of its arms. Powerless before the bells that rendered all evil beings weak-kneed at their twanging._

Mad Mikey stood their unaffected with the support of legs sturdier than steel beams.

_Placed between two cliff sides, minions of the malevolent one looked out with eyes as yellow and round as egg yolks from undetailed darkness. As the light rushes them, the lessor spirits slowly back away while not taking their eyes off the brightness. Brightness linked to bells that warmed the icy air of night and the permafrost encasing the most inhuman of hearts with their just jangling._

Mad Mikey remained with the void still breathing heavily on its fictitious frosty heart.

_Demons with bodies of blood red and brunt black are standing hunched over two spiral stairways of stone. As the blue brightness blinds them in their retreat, they hear the bells guaranteeing their ultimate and predetermined defeat in the language of their clanging. _

Mad Mikey heard no such guarantees, it only heard brass being bluntly beaten.

_Chernabog begins lowering the arm covering its head as it leers wrathfully at the distance. A charging stampede of cobalt illumination ends it's leering. Placing one rough hand over its face followed by the other as it hunches its back away, the evil one all but forfeits victory. Another victory to be tallied up for the bells that opened all eyes to the majesty of Heaven's white light with jubilant jingling. _

Mad Mikey saw what it had always seen, a repulsive existence filtered through an organic lens of a cold yet bright green, of a gloomy and otherworldly green.

_As the background score returns in full, it's expressive of the marvels and sadness of the defeated demons. Whether slithering along the soil as a single spirit or faintly flying with fumes following them as part of an assemblage airstream, those raised from dirty embrace of their graves descend into them once again. With the screen now fully bathed in our yellow sun's mythical blue rays, the bells come back. Bearing confident assurances at all is right with the world, as the darkness leaves with weak and hesitant whimpers, by their beatific tolling. _

The beast was not turned back. Under it's control; Mike's pulse and veins did not tremble.

_Just as it was summoned by screeching violins, Chernabog was banished by them. But these violins did not convey wailing against the dark miracles of the Witch's Sabbath. No. Instead, they conveyed crying, a crying without the small solace of tears. _

_The crying of a demon. But was the crying from the demon or for the demon? _

Something about the stringed instruments had Mad Mikey move Mike's head and look up at the screen.

_A solid silhouette surrounded by the inescapable blue, the dark god began to close its ragged wings. As those limbs of stone simulating the leather and scales of dragon wings came towards Chernabog's body, it raised its arms towards the same heavens it looked at. _

_Whatever emotions were erupting within the demon, they remained buried beneath black. Placing one arm over its lowered featureless face, Chernabog buries itself within its own wings, within the extensions of its existence. As those extensions fully engulf the demon, it becomes the Peak of Bald Mountain once again. Once again it reverts back to what it truly was: alone, silent, a god of nothing, trapped in an everlasting torrent of torment. _

As Mad Mikey stared at the screen with a face unchanging, it wondered…and reflected.

Devoid of describable feature, one wonders what this embodiment of evil was feeling. Was it confusion for how it reached this appalling position? Anger at its creator and all else around it? Envy for those not forced into abyssal black? Resentment for its purpose? Sadness that it knew nothing but the darkest imaginings which it clung to reluctantly, sorrowfully so? Maybe none of the above? Maybe all of the above and more?

Mad Mikey then felt something, something it never had before. But what was it? Was it anger? Fear? Vengeance? Resentment? Sadistic glee?

It was none of these things. It was ignored; there was so much to do, so much to kill.

_The camera starts moving slowly away from the imposing dark blue of Bald Mountain and starts to become enveloped in thick light blue mist._

_As low music and chanting began to be heard, a procession of spiritual torches bearers walks over an arched stone bridge and vast forest. Their torches burn brighter in the water beneath them and flanking them. _

_As the chanting becomes louder, the figures holding the almost celestial fire enter a vast cave. Their forms were swallowed whole while their torches remained and were burning brighter than before. _

As the beaten but largely spared soldiers lay before it, Mad Mikey was now also burning bright than before…but with rage. Because of their bull-**'BLEEP'** heroics and cosmic contrivance, its first victims got away. **Zoey got away!**

Mad Mikey knew that by now Zoey and the rest of them were cowering behind the safety of the Milton Medical Facility. Though its purpose was to cure Dakota of her mutation, it had a second purpose. In the event that the Dakotazoid went on a rampage, the doors and defenses of the facility were made to be able to resist damage many, many times greater than what the Dakotazoid could inflict.

_The camera then moves slowly above the still flickering flames. All that fills the screen is black, vast and featureless. It was the sort of black that drains one of all hopes and dreams, even demons and dark gods. _

Though Mad Mikey truly hated to admit it, the campers were safe from it. It had tested the doors many times while slowly learning how to take control of Mike's body once again (as the dents on the doors likely showed the cowards as they ran into it).

_The blackness was spilt. A thin beam of blue slowly starts rising from the bottom of the screen until it reached the near top. Once there, to a louder choir, it began to widen and widen and widen until it revealed…Paradise! Until it revealed divine epiphany! _

But then the frown on its face slowly turned up side down into a smile. Yes, the teenagers were safe from a siege in their fortress. Like all fortresses, its protection was fleeting. Mad Mikey wasn't strong enough yet to show the final futility of their fortress. But it would be soon enough.

_Through an opening greatly resembling a vast cathedral door, a wide expansion of thin blue trees stretches as far as the eye can see. As limitless as the possibilities the future holds. _

In the meantime, there was always Plan B. Despite it truly wanting to just rib Zoey's still beating heart from her chest, Mad Mikey had considered if the neighboring army intervened. Mad Mikey would have to wait longer for its prize, but this way it just might be all the sweeter.

_Moving past these plants, the screen fills with an image of white puffy clouds and blue mountains. Moving further past them, something began to grow as it moved at the bottom of the screen. Looking down one found proof of a divine whim._

Mad Mikey then looked at the sabers of light still being held by Mike's mortal hands. Seeing these bolts bowing to its impulses and hearing the music of the heavenly, the demon said aloud the words of a hymn: words twisted by the demon into only a partial perversion of their original intention by applying them to itself.

"God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest, thunder thy clarion and **lightning thy sword**!"

The all-terrible then looked at floor and found the still fidgeting bodies of the soldiers so foolish as to stand in its way. It contemplated killing them. They were defenseless and it so longed to hear their final pain-filled death rattles, to see the life and light leave their eyes.

_Rays of warm orange spread out, as the choir was at it loudest and most beatific._

But no! They would not be the initial indication of the extension of the entire human race. There was to be another to fill that most coveted of responsibilities. Another that was red.

_Hidden behind a mountain, the rising sun promised so much. Offered so much. _

Still, these objects, these pieces of meat might just be of some use. That's all they were after all, that's all any of them were. Objects, pieces of meat…nothing more.

_Truly miraculous things would happen under this light and music penetrating to the very essence of God. _

Beginning the first of its many dark miracles, Mad Mikey broke the first of many limbs. **(2)**

* * *

As the heart of the storm began preparing for its opening winds, the teenagers along with Chris and Chef had indeed successfully entered the Milton Medical Faculty. Inside they found all of the medical staff and the majority of the island's interns and employees, another part of Dr. Johnson's deal with Chris was that most of those on the island would be lead to this place in the event of Mad Mikey taking control. Now, aside from Mad Mikey and the soldiers "fighting" it, the only people on the island not in the faculty were the interns and employees who worked in the transmission tower from which all of the live footage taken from the island was edited and presented to the fans of Total Drama.

While a person would think that having an amount of people almost matching the population of a small town in one building would make it cramped, the Milton Medical Faculty was anything but. It was hard for many of those inside to believe it but this structure, which was somehow built in a matter of days, was on the same scale as the great monuments of the mighty empires of ancient Egypt, Rome, Mexico, India, and China. None of the staff of this modern day wonder of the world could say with certainty as to just how many hallways, how many shortage rooms, and how many rooms there were. The general consensus was that the number of all three was somewhere between five hundred and one thousand (a small gap to be sure).

But what everyone could be certain of were the details of this place, however few they may be. In the starkest contrast possible to the movie theater oversaturated with artistic details to appease one man's immeasurable ego, this medical faculty was a place of efficacy and practicality simply meant to get the job done as quickly and fully as possible. All of the surfaces in this place were bland and sterile white with the exception of two blue lines that ran along the walls and the occasional encircled blue double capital M's (the logo for Milton Medical, the branch of the Milton Empire that built this place). Because of this lack of visual detail, many eyes were drawn to the medical equipment. This equipment was on par with the latest medical findings and technologies available, with there being several machines and medicines that were not yet used anywhere else. The only example of this place being a part of Total Drama to be found was Chris' lone requirement, two Confessional camera rooms that were also bathroom stalls (don't ask why they also had to be a bathroom stalls, something are better left unknown, ok?).

It was a good thing that there were few details to this place because almost no one truly noticed the few that were on display. They were either preparing the equipment for whatever today might bring, taking care of those in need of medical attention, or wondering what course of action would happen before this day was over. Aside from Lightning and Staci, who were still out cold along with Dr. Johnson, it was the last option that the teenagers were doing. While most were doing so in the massive lobby area with many television screens along the white walls, two were doing so in the lower levels. But these two, each thinking they were alone, were more reflecting on the past than the present. They were trying to face the ghosts of their recent pasts, futilely by themselves.

* * *

By itself, Mad Mikey marched with great haste towards the main campground. It's steps were so determined that it didn't indulge in its desires to turn the lush green trees around it into leafless blackened husks or the mutated animals living out their instinctual lives into darkened, maggot-covered corpses. That would have to wait until later.

Finally after what felt like ages to it but was in truth significantly shorter, Mad Mikey reached the place where thirteen teenagers labored for one million pieces of green paper. Truly a sign of humanity's proper final fate to be dying in agony by its hands, Mad Mikey reflected on how so much money was thrown at mindless entertainment based in toil and pain. If they valued the ending of toil and pain so much, why didn't they use that same money towards that end? Even more so when one realizes that there was so much more suffering not being seen which they could have ended but didn't. Aside from money, it would have only cost them their silent approval and consent, which they had already given and weren't about to take back. That's what they gave Mad Mikey, their silent approval and consent, then and now.

As it reached the boy's cabin, Mad Mikey thought about how that was all going to change. Blind optimism and the censor would no longer conceal the horrors and pain. Soon all would be seen and known. At the same moment that Mike's foot smashed the wooden door into countless splintered pieces, Mad Mikey thought of the shattering that the many peoples of the Earth would experience, as it's terrible reign reached their doors.

It had wanted to just kill Zoey and everyone on this island right then and there. But no! The universe seemed to demand that they were not to die then. Well, Mad Mikey had decided that in the time where it couldn't reach Zoey's body, it would attack all of the teenagers on other fronts: emotional and intellectual, through their friends and strangers. It would make their inner pain so intense that they would literally be begging for death!

Reaching the top drawer, Mad Mikey began searching for the object that would do so. The object, taken last night and dashed here just in case this happened, that would make the horrors known to all and begin the downward spiral of suffering for the teenagers. Still covered in the darkness of the drawer, Mike's fingers wrapped around the object.

* * *

The object was small and light on the fingers. After looking at it for a second, Dakota placed the small piece of dusty metal that she had been examining back on the dustier black base of one of the machines. Not fully knowing why, after arriving at the faculty Dakota felt the impulse to come to the lower levels. After all, this where it all truly began. It was in this place that Dakota seemed to be cured of her mutation. She ventured deeper into this laboratory, haunted by her memories.

Aside from the thin layer of dust that seemed to somehow acuminate in the fairly short space of time since the experiment, it was exactly as Dakota remembered it. The first time she saw it, Dakota almost couldn't believe it. She had assumed that she would find a place that matched the faculty above: white, clean, neat, symmetrical, and mundane.

What she saw instead, then and now, were structures, forms, and devices the likes of which would seem far more fitting to a nightmare realm under the ownership of Dr. Frankenstein than a modern medical establishment. This was a place in which the scientific was wed in blasphemous matrimony to the surreal, where the ludicrous was the same as the logical. She remembered it well, even if it was seen through mutant eyes.

_The massive room, hidden beneath the main levels, almost felt like a work of German Expressionism. Even though Dakota, especially as a mutant, had no idea what German Expressionism was, she was looking at some of its most important features in this place. Much of this room was hidden in the shadows of many unfamiliar machines, so much so that one would almost think the shadows were painted on the walls and floor. The majority of the structures whose features could be seen appeared to be wildly non-realistic and geometrically absurd. Despite they're being many machines there, no one single machine could be easily identified and it was near impossible to say where one started and another ended. So vast and bizarre in the background, these edifices almost seemed like a gateway of madness into a realm not meant for mortal eyes. _

_And yet encased in these machines of mania were other devices, the main ones to be used for this experiment. While they were clearly based in a world of real science, they were just as haunting and harsh as the nightmare fuel behind them. They were dirty and imperfect, reflecting the somewhat rushed matter in which they were constructed. _

_There were many sets of glass tubes with a metal base and a metal ball at the top, at varying heights and often with they're being a pattern of smaller ones placed next to gradually larger ones. There were towers of metal scaffolding with many metal balls, __polished copper or brass that were about six or eight inches in diameter,__ inside of them. There were massive power generators complete with all matter of switches, levers, needles, and control panels. There were many metal poles slightly taller than a man with a thick metal disk at the top, known as Tesla coils. There were panels with many of the same bizarre device that was called a Jacobs Latter, two "3/16" solid brass rods with copper spheres at their tops. And there were many other panels with countless types of; indicator lights, power level indicators, voltage meters, and main power feed wheels. _

_But there were two structures at the center of this room, which Dakota focused on the most. The first was a truly massive machine and the more impressive of the two devices. Supported by many metal rings connected to the walls by metal beams there was a massive shape. It was a massive cyclical inner object that was surrounded by three giant rippled copper cyclical coils attached to it by metal beams linked to the metal rings. And connected beneath that generator and those coils was a decent sized metal disk. The second machine, directly beneath the secured object, was what appeared to be an operating table. Only it was several times the length and thickness of a normal operating table (likely due to Dakota's height and weight in her mutant form). _

"_Now, Dakota. Remember what we've told you. When you lay on the table, there will be clamps that will appear after you get on the table. This experiment is likely going to be very painful and there's a change you could hurt others if you were left unrestrained. Do you understand?" One of the many doctors asked Dakota._

_Turning her head and looking down, Dakoka saw all of those in this room with her. In addition to the doctors along with B and Cameron, who would be performing the experiment, there was Zoey, Mike, Dawn, Brick, and Sam (of course) who were here for emotional support. Seeing them, Dakota easily understood why she had to be restrained. _

"_Dakota do." _

_After she laid down on the table, true to the doctor's word, from seemingly nowhere circular metal clamps appeared and tightly repressed Dakota's neck, elbows, wrists, stomach, knees, and feet. _

_Once she was restrained, ten mechanical arms appeared from what looked like a large disk above. Dakota noticed that each arm had a massive needle connected to a glass tube partially encased by the metal that made up the rest of the arms. Each glass tube was full of a liquid tinted in a foggy light green. As the arms slowly got closer to Dakota, she noticed that the liquid in each arm began to bubble and glow in a much brighter eerie green. As the emerald glow pulsated, a corroded copper coil, which was heating up the liquid and causing the bubbling and color change, was seen in each arm's glass tube. _

_Each of the ten-needled arms then went to one of the ten clamps restraining Dakota. Once there, they went through small circular openings on the top of each clamp and simultaneously pierced Dakota's rough, rhino-like hide. They then injected there glowing green liquids into Dakota's body. It felt warm but unfamiliar as Dakota felt the liquid coursing through her mutated veins until all of her body felt slightly warmer. There was a bit of momentary discomfort from both the needles and the liquid but it wasn't much more than what someone would feel from receiving a needle at the doctor's office. _

"_That not so bad." Dakota said in relief a few moments after being injected. _

_The doctors looked at each other, looking unsure about what to do but nevertheless one of them spoke to the mutated girl. _

"_Uh…Dakota. Don't you remember what we told you? That wasn't the experiment. That liquid injected was to ensure that your body was capable of surviving the experiment."_

_All Dakota could say in response was, "Uh?" _

_But then Dakota realized a few things. She was still a twelve-foot tall mutant. She was still restrained on the table. The needled arms that injected her with that green liquid were still piercing her skin. And all of the other equipment in the room, the rest of the fantastic machinery on display, started to come to life as it began humming and glowing._

* * *

As Dakota thought about what came right before the actual experiment, another was down in this place. But what he was thinking about was what came before that fateful day. Thinking about what would prove to be his greatest failure.

"_The point is that if it was the materials on this island that caused these unnatural mutations then we might be able to remove them. While the changes have affected all of Dakota's body, the greatest contraction of change is in her brain. Her brainwave pattern appears to have almost doubled, with her original pattern now fused with an alien one. That's how the changes have affected every aspect of Dakota, because like a normal person everything is ultimately connected to the brain. _

"_Despite they're being more to it than simply this; our basic plan is send enough electricity into Dakota's body so that the alien brainwave pattern will be overwhelmed and removed from hers in the same way that the fur of a mammal can be burned away from the skin beneath it. _

"_Once isolated, the alien brainwave and by implication all of the aspects of Dakota's mutation will cease to exist. This is because the alien brainwave pattern will have no natural brainwaves to leech off of and none of its own that could support themselves without a host's brainwaves." Cameron said as he summed up for the doctors his findings and plan for Dakota. _

"_But wait! How are we going do to this? Dakota's mutated form is tough but even she in her current state couldn't survive the amount of the electricity that this would require." One of the doctors asked who was the youngest person there aside from B and Cameron. _

"_You are correct. Which is exactly why B and me have developed a serum that will be injected into Dakota's body before the electricity is introduced. This serum is of vital importance!"_

"_Why is that?"_

"_Firstly, it will slowly start the separation process of the two brainwave patterns. The reason for this initial small separation before the main separation starts is because it will mean that most of whatever pain is experienced will be __**felt by the Dakotazoid**__ instead of Dakota herself. _

"_Secondly, it will make Dakota's mutated form many times tougher and stronger. Even though Dakota will not feel most if any of the pain, __**if the mutated form dies she dies too**__. __**Or vice versa**__. So, as odd as it may seem, we must first make the mutated side of Dakota many times more powerful than it already is before hopefully destroying it for good. _

"_And thirdly, the system by which the serum will be injected into Dakota will be the same means by which the electricity will be sent into her body after the other machines create the needed power and its absorbed into the main unit by the rotating magnets around it. _

"_Are there any other questions before we tell Dakota what the plan is?"_

_No one else had any more questions. Or if they did, they didn't share them with everyone._

* * *

Both Cameron and Dakota, for reasons unknowable, flashed back to the moment. The moment of the experiment, the moment where they mirrored Dr. Frankenstein in that they acted as only God should and created life without knowing the horrors it could bring.

_As the machines began awakening with opening eyes of blinking lights and crying in the buzzing of electricity, the doctors along with B and Cameron were frantically running from machine to machine, panel to panel, to have everything just right before it began. _

_There plan was highly unorthodox to say the least and in some ways it seemed contrary to the norms of science but it was the best solution any of them could think of. As Cameron had said, the basic gist was to generate enough electrical power to overwhelm and remove the Dakotazoid from Dakota. But they would need so much power to do this, so much that even the best of electrical wiring couldn't be trusted. Therefore, they had to electrify of the atmosphere of the very room itself and then have every last bit of energy concentrated into the main unit above Dakota. Once in the main unit, the power would be amplified and then channeled directly into Dakota's mutated body through the needles. _

_The first largely unnoticed currents began to enter the air. The three massive magnets around the main unit started to rotate at a constant angular rate as they started absorbing thin bolts of bright blue that hugged them around their waists. With the first electric arcs now crackling overhead and phosphorus lights of green and blue bathing the lab's powerful generators, one of the doctors, known for his eccentric nature, made a bold (but bizarre) proclamation. _

"_Yes, yes! This is it! Come gentlemen! Let's take our gloved fists and shove them up the ass of God to pull out the forbidden knowledge coded in lightning and corn!"_

_Even in the steadily increasing display around them, everyone just stared at this doctor. Thankfully for him, the first massive surge of electricity was blasted into the main unit. Shaken out of their stupor by its roaring crackle, the teenage specters saw the many machines around them in action as they gave power to the still charging main unit. _

_The genesis point of the main electrical currents came from the generators capable of producing millions of volts in a single bolt. The first stage of making these flashes of lightning made by man was that the current passes through a transformer and then to a multistributor device, a rotary switch that allows a loaded condenser to discharge into the primary circuit of the resonator. The multistributor consists of a motor-driven, whirling electrode with five points. At great speed these points pass another electrode with a set of seven points. As each point of one electrode passes a point of the other, large sparks occur. These sparks form featherlike flashes between the two rings. The inner electrode spins at many revolutions per minute. From the sparking electrodes, the current enters the high-capacity condenser before the10-turn primary of the resonator. The sparks then leap from the resonator, producing fat blue flames which stab six feet into the air. Each huge generator only discharges for a few seconds. But every time they do, as the air becomes acrid with the smell of burning ozone and scorched metal, the energy that was produced is channeled into the main unit. _

_At the same time as there were these main bolts, coronas were happening at the same generators. These coronas were a partial breakdown of the air that happens in the vicinity of a high voltage conductor. The results were very high voltage static charges with a bluish glow, the same type of charge that frightened sailors in days long since past by appearing on the masts of their ships during storms at night on the sea. _

_Though unable to compete with the thick charges created by the generators, the many Tesla coils were at work as well. Every few seconds or so, at least one of them would release a discharge of many purple strains of surging electricity into the room's atmosphere without pattern. _

_If any of the possible rouge bolts of electricity entered the proximity of the sphere towers, often from one of the many Tesla coils or the countless coronas, they would initiate a much grander and useful surge. The many pairs of spheres within the metal scaffoldings were what connected the capacitors so that when sparks appeared between only two spheres they would be automatically connected to all of the charged-up capacitors in series. A charge fired in the first gap would lead to a sparkover in the next nearest and begin a cascading effect voltage-wise through the remainder of the sphere gaps. Thanks to sophisticated methods, the doctors were able to synchronize the potentially random charges into united electrical currents with there power magnified many times over. The centerpiece of this experiment would quickly absorb the fully realized blast of electricity. _

_Then there were the Cascade transformers, the trees of glass and metal arranged so that they were in a row from small, to larger, to larger still. These pillars of power were part of a technique involving the use of two or more transformers connected in a cascading effect so that the individual voltage of the first transformer is combined with that of the second and continuing in such a manner until the final electrical arc dances wildly in the air before being sucked into the magnetic black hole above the operating table. _

_And finally the Jacobs Latters were doing their duty as well. On each one an electrical arc slowly but steadily climbs to the top until it breaks at the copper discharge spheres. Once an arc is broken, another begins right away. While these machines didn't produce a lot of power, they were constant in their output and looked pretty cool at the same time. _

_The teenage witnesses, along with the doctors and teenagers who were not witnesses, noticed that the speed of rotation in the magnets of the main unit had greatly increased. And then…it began!_

_Suddenly, the operating table that the Dakotaziod was laying on (now thanks to the serum the beauty and the beast were separate beings even if most had no clue yet) began to rise closer to the metal disk that the needled arms came from. This was so that the amplified charges didn't have to travel far and in the process lose some of their power. Once the operating table was at least fifteen feet in the air (about the half way point from the floor to the metal disk at the bottom of the main unit) it stopped moving any higher. _

_Then, after the jerking of the moving platform coming to a stop, a yell was shouted. It came from the platform that Dakota had laid on and from Dakota's throat but it wasn't from Dakota. It was a loud proclamation of existence to people ignorant of this and all matter of remorseless pieces of metal. No one below could hear it over the loud and thunderous sounds of the machines but it sounded like crying. __**The crying of a newborn**__. _

_Above the crying Dakotazoid, above all of the humans below it, a massive surge of pure electrical existence was building up, growing in bright green legs that stretched out in every possible angle and direction. And then, as if it were a bolt of lightning from the heavens meant to punish evil, the emerald energy was sent charging at that which was judged to be an abomination by all while still in its infancy. _

_As the sword of the god of science descended rapidly with cold indifference and blazing heat, so many thoughts were filtered through the Dakotazoid's admittedly limited mind. It felt confusion, fear, despair, anger, uncertainty, horrific realization, and finally…__**pain!**_

_The pain, the Dakotazoid's introduction to be a true being in and of itself, was intense. The blast of raw power coursed through the mutant's massive body. Finding itself unable to move, the Dakotazoid felt Dakota's muscles be forced down by an inconceivable number of spasms. _

_As the muscles twitched and pulsated, the Dakotazoid found itself being forced down. The experience was beyond excruciating as the Dakotazoid felt like it was being torn apart. It was burning away in the light, the terrible green light. It was starting to lose the feeling in Dakota's limbs; its vision was starting to get foggy. It was starting to be repressed. _

_In its agony the Dakotazoid bellowed a succession of wails and moans so loud that they could be heard over the thunderous machinery. The scientists heard these saddening, pain-filled cries with smiles on their faces. _

"_Yes! It's working! It's working!"_

"_It's finally being repressed!"_

"_Not yet you fools! We need more power! The current to the main unit is too weak!" _

"_We must keep the atmosphere electrified! That blast wasn't powerful enough. Put all of the machines at full power output! We need to create a second, stronger blast!"_

_Given all of the events that had so far taken place, one would naturally assume that the doctors had exhausted their entire repertoire of the gruesome and grandiose. However, everything that had happened until this point was but the preliminaries. _

_In a pace even more frantic than before, all of the doctors plus B and Cameron ran around like chickens with their heads cut off as they removed all of the locking and limitation mechanisms to the many different types of machines. Until now the many machines, the generators and transformers, the Tesla coils and Jacobs Latters, had been producing power that was impressive but restrained. The restraint, the hand of possible human intervention in case something were to go wrong, was cast aside. Whatever happened next would be in the invisible hands of science, unfeeling and indifferent. _

_The atmosphere of this room, this place of false life and death, had indeed become more electrified. It became so much so that every second there was a bolt of energy traveling through any given space of air. The by-products of man usurping the power of God, flashes of man-made lightning, leaped and crackled around the teenage witnesses watching the dazzling display as they became frozen in mortal fright. There were electric arcs of every size and color overhead. As different chemicals burned in the air, the bright color of an arc could reveal what chemicals were burning: red (strontium nitrate), yellow (sodium chloride), and green (thallium nitrate). And so bolts of blue and voltage in violet now illumined the dreary greys and blacks of the equipment as they crisscrossed with currents that glowed orange and fuchsia. _

_But the colors of blinding electric arcs as they danced wildly in glass vials and streamed off copper spheres were not all that demanded the teenagers' attention. There were other sensations in the air. As the oxygen in the air became less and less, it was being filled with the ever-growing smell of scorched metal and brunt waves of ozone. But aside from the sights the most impressive features were found in the realm of sound. Some of that came from the machines themselves, as their magnets hummed and their levers screeched when pulled. But it was more thanks to the pulsating power as its countless kinds of crackling, buzzing, snapping and popping __transformed glowing color into elemental music and high voltage magic. _

_The toil of all of this was having on the machines was very noticeable. Needles went off of the dials. Sparks and corona disks whirled out of control. Some the equipment even began to concuss and smoke from being forced to create far more voltage than they were ever intended too. _

_But the oil and sparks that made up the machines' sweat and blood was working. The main unit was spinning so rapidly, absorbing so much energy, that it almost seemed like it would explode at any moment. __But it didn't explode. Instead the main unit was producing a second surge of green energy. This blast about to be born and pushed towards its target made the first one seem like a flickering oil candle by comparison. _

_Looking up in primal fear, the Dakotazoid trashed very more violently as it shouted the growls of a mighty beast about to die because of cruel forces it couldn't understand. It's loud cries of defiance rose in intensity until the spectacle at last reached its dramatic crescendo. _

_As the collected charge of millions upon millions (perhaps even billions upon billions) of volts was released, the Dakotazoid watched its inevitable descent with horror and one last mighty roar. When the blast made contact, all seemed to stop as one moment was pulled into the length of eternity. As the Dakotazoid now found itself trapped within the confidents of an enteral storm, the emerald energy wasn't finished yet. There was enough residual energy that the blast stretched outward in every direction and destroyed a good portion of the other machines, creating a violent and sparky musical of the mechanical. _

_Once they were done reeling from that musical number, everyone watched with held breath as the operating table was slowly lowered. The anticipation was killing them. What would they find? A mutant? A human? Something alive or something dead? _

_When the operating table was finally on the ground, everyone rush over. Leading the pack, Sam reached the table first as his concern for Dakota easily overpowered his normal hatred of running. He looked and saw Dakota, saw her beautiful blonde hair and adorable face. He saw a human…a human who wasn't breathing. Pancaking, Sam quickly applied CPR to Dakota. After what felt like forever to Sam, he stopped. There didn't seem to be an effect on his beauty seemingly asleep. _

_His eyes watering up, the gamer didn't notice that one of Dakota's hands moved ever so slightly. Then, as if a sudden bolt of life entered her, Dakota's body seemed to stiffen as she began to scream. Still reeling in shock from the whole ordeal, it took several minutes before Dakota was finally calmed down. When she did stop, Dakota looked around as if seeing everyone for the first time. After her eyes focused on Sam, she smiled beamingly. Once the needles and restraints were removed, Dakota pounced and threw herself onto Sam. From there, she did what she had dreamed of doing ever since she learned of the experiment, make out with Sam as a human. The gamer was more than willing to help her fulfill this dream. _

_As two lovers began sucking face, which they would do for several hours, everyone looked at them with great happiness. But one spectator, the eccentric scientist from before, had his own unique take on the situation. _

"_Look! She's making out. She's alive. She's alive... She's alive, she's making out, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive, __**SHE'S ALIVE!**__"_

"_Doctor-In the name of God…" Another doctor, having had enough of his ramblings, said to the eccentric scientist before being interrupted by him._

"_Oh, in the name of God! Now I know what it feels like to fist God!"_

"_Ok, seriously! What the Hell is it with you and fisting!? Just because we are surrounded by all of this equipment doesn't mean you have to ask this way, Dr. Frankenstein."_

"_I am not Frankenstein! It's pronounced "Fronkensteen". My name is Froaderick Fronkensteen!"_** (3)**

* * *

As they both remembered the extraordinary happiness of that moment (and meeting an actual Franken…I mean, "Fronkensteen"). But they also remembered the regret born out of what came afterwards. They were so occupied with these memories that Cameron and Dakota didn't realize the other was down there in this place of the past…until they walked right into each other.

After standing up, wiping the dust off, and saying the automatic apologies needed, the two were trapped in an awkward silence. A silence broken by a heavy, guilt-filled sigh.

Cameron had his eyes focused on the floor. He had decided that enough was enough. The former bubble boy had been holding something in for longer than he should. He didn't know what was going to happen afterward but with him still reeling from his talk with Mad Mikey and truly not knowing how today was going to play out, it was now or never.

"I…I'm sorry Dakota. I'm so sorry." Cameron said in a voice so softly that it was barely hearable.

"Sorry for what?" Dakota asked.

"I'm sorry for all of the pain that you've experienced because I wasn't able to fully cure you of your mutation."

"Aw Cameron. You don't need to apologize for anything. You…" Dakota began to say before Cameron interrupted her.

"No! You don't understand!" Cameron shouted, startling Dakota. The black boy genius then moved his eyes from the floor and looked at Dakota. They were getting dewy.

"That…that day, when you appeared to be cured, one of the doctors came to me before the experiment. He told me that there was a chance of this happening, that the process would isolate the Dakotazoid but make it a stronger presence in your psyche. He thought that we should cancel the experiment and collect more data before trying it on you. Because the evidence for this possibility was very slim, he left the final decision to **me**.

"I was at a loss for what to do. I talked it over with B, as much as one can talk with him, but he was just as unsure about what to do as I was. In the hours before the experiment, I tried to approach it from every angle I could think of. But in the end, I decided to go forward with the experiment anyway. As both the appointed head of the experiment and someone who knew all of the possibilities, I'm fully accountable for its failure."

The blonde did not respond; she was unreadable. When Cameron resumed speaking, his voice took on a slow but steady rising in anger.

"It was all in my hands, what could determine the very course of your future. There was so much responsibility, which I eagerly accepted. Now I realize that I wasn't ready for it. There must have been something I missed, some miscalculation or some variable. But **I** missed it! I don't know why but I didn't even think to ask anyone else about it aside from B. All of the guilt and shame is **mine**, no body else's! But why didn't I tell anyone else?

"I honestly didn't have an answer to that question for sometime but I still felt this guilt eating away at me. Then as I talked with Mad Mikey I had a horrible epiphany. Do you know what I first thought of when I realized that you had been mutated?"

Dakota stood there in silence, her facial expression unchanged and her mood unknowable.

"I thought of getting on the cover of _Bubble Theory Magazine_. This was something that was causing you to devolve and might be for life but all I thought about was getting on the cover of a magazine!" Cameron shouted, the anger that had been slowly building was at last starting to be released. Now with every sentience, the anger he felt at himself rose.

"I could have overlooked something of vital importance because I was concerned about my own advancement! Even if that's not true, the very possibility of that is bad enough!"

Cameron closed his eyes tightly as he said, "What am I, Dakota!? Well, I'll tell you. I'm a failure…**a horrible failure! **No, I'm worse than that…**I'm a horrible person!**"

He clenched his hands, almost in pain from the amount of pressure. "I don't deserve the wonderful friends I've made here! I'm only going to fail them or hurt them in the end!"

As his eyes closed even tighter, tears started falling from his lensed eyes to the floor.

"Sometimes, I wish I had never left my bubble in the first place! Because then I never would have discovered just how much of a failure I really am! Because then you wouldn't be suffering so much because of my mistakes!

"**My failures!**"

Dakota just stood there. Though the expression on her face had changed, Cameron couldn't see that because of his still closed eyes. Both stayed where they were as Cameron sobbed bitterly through closed eyes for at least a few minutes.

Finally, when the tears stopped falling, Cameron spoken once again. His eyes were still closed, being unable to look at the person who he brought so much suffering on. But unlike before when his eyes were closed, there's no anger in his voice. Instead there was an apologetic tone, of someone bearing some burden with great sadness but acceptance.

"You must hate me for all of the pain you've had to endure because of me. And honestly I couldn't blame you in the slightest. I'd have no grudge or bitter feelings towards you. Please just tell me that you hate me, shout at me! I deserve it. I'm nothing but a…"

Cameron never finished that statement. He was rendered speechless because he felt something on his cheek. It was soft and warm. Opening his still moist eyes, Cameron saw that Dakota's face was right next to his and that her lips were stilled puckered near his cheek.

Stepping back, Dakota saw that Cameron's face, which before was showing nothing but shame and despair, was now blushing wildly. But even more surprising to Cameron was the look on Dakota's face. Cameron had been dreading her eyes being pools of anger and resentment. But what he saw were bright green orbs expressing the upmost sympathy.

"Cameron, you deserve so many things. But hate and shouting are not among them."

"H-how can you say that? I am a failure. Even if I ignore what's happened to you, there's also the fact that I messed up when trying to help Mike. I am a failure." Cameron said as he looked down at the floor, his shame still having a strong hold on him.

Remembering what she did earlier that day with Sam in the movie theater, Dakota stood right in front of Cameron and held his hands in hers.

"Cameron, you are as far away from a failure as anyone I've ever met. You gave Mike support at a time when he was alone. Yes, you did spill his secret twice but that doesn't change the fact that Mike overcame it because of that. It might have been a failure in the sense that you messed up but it was a greater success because Mike was no longer at war with himself.

"Not only that, but you helped Mike find the courage to confess the truth. So you also succeed in helping Mike finally find companionship in Zoey. And speaking of Zoey, it was because of you that she didn't lose herself to her warrior side after voting off Scott."

Still holding his hands, Dakota then added with a bit more playfulness in her voice, "So if your so smart, please tell me if someone is a failure when they help two friends overcome several different types of personal demons?"

"We-well…no." Cameron said, somewhat slowly. He liked what Dakota was telling him and knew it was true but there was one last thing holding him back from feeling better.

"But what about you? You're still struggling against my biggest failure of all. I…I know how much pain and terror you've felt because it might take over your body for good."

Dakota stared at Cameron as she contemplated what she was going to say next. She had to pick apart so many emotions that had been in her mind since she first appeared to be fully human again.

"Yes, it is so terrifying when I start transforming into that…that **thing**," Dakota said as she squeezed Cameron's hands a bit out of the fear she felt merely thinking about it.

"Words can't show what fear fills me when I see everything become dosed in foggy reds and yellows. It really does feel like I'm losing myself in a terrible storm and I can never escape. But you're not to blame for it trying to take over my body. Its actions and choices are its own. You can't blame yourself for what it's trying to do to me. **You didn't make it the monster that it is**.

"Even if you did, despite my fear, I know that it's been worth it."

Dakota looked at Cameron, who looked truly shocked. One of the last things he ever thought he would hear would be Dakota saying at all of her pain was "worth it". With a thin but sincere smile on her face, Dakota explained what he meant to the confused one.

"Think of it Cameron. If it wasn't for you and your "failure", I wouldn't be able to see Sam with my own eyes. I wouldn't be able to tell him how much he means to me in normal English. I wouldn't be able to hold and hug him without having to be worried about crushing him. Those are greater gifts than any of the countless expensive clothes or possessions I've ever gotten.

"Let me say something I should have said a long time ago…**thank you Cameron**."

Cameron didn't say anything but his face said everything that needed to be said. His eyes were watery once again, but this time the large smile on his face revealed them to be tears of happiness. The former bubble boy felt a massive burden lifted from his shoulders.

Pulling on Dakota's hands, Cameron brought Dakota closer and hugged her. Though she was taller, Cameron still whispered something that Dakota heard.

"Your, your welcome. And…**thank you Dakota**."

After parting, the just stared at each other for a few moments. Both had come down here to this place alone hoping for some kind of solace from the past. And while they both did find it, it was only because they were able to help each other.

* * *

"You really are a great guy Cameron. I can easily see why they fancy you so much." Dakota said, breaking the silence with a voice full of amusement.

"They? Who are they?"

"Oh come on! You know, silly. In fact I'm shocked you were so gloomy. I would think that they would lift up your spirits like that!" Dakota said with a snap of her fingers

"I swear I don't Dakota. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Seriously? How could you not know about CPC?" Dakota asked, amusement slowly being replaced by uncertainty.

"The Communist Party of Canada?" Cameron asked, confused about how he was connected to a political organization founded in 1921 and declared illegal three separate times. But he was even more confused about how this would make him feel better.

Chuckling at the former bubble boy's confusion, Dakota asked, "You really don't know, do you?"

Cameron shook his head up and down to confirm that he had no idea what Dakota was talking about.

Dakota then looked at Cameron with a full smile. She now had a way to repay Cameron for all of the kindness and help that he gave her. Moving her hands out his, Dakota took out her cell phone. She silently typed on some of its tiny keys for a few seconds. After doing so and smiling at what was on the phone's screen, Dakota gave it to Cameron.

After taking the phone and looking at what was on its screen, Cameron's already large eyes grew to over three times their natural size (don't ask how they did but they did). He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was more shocking to him than the Dakotazoid and Mad Mikey put together!

What he saw was a website called **"Cutie Pies for Cameron: Fan Girls in Love with Total Drama's Bubble Boy!" **In addition to many pictures and videos of Cameron, there were many polls and comments on the home page. The newest polls included _"What girl would you pair Cameron with?"_ (With a tie between Dawn and Anna Maria) and _"Do you think Cameron is cute and do you want to date him?"_ (With a 100% answer of "_YES! X3"_). And the most recent comments were _"aRe yOu aLl cAm fAnS? CaUsE I lOvE CaM He rOcKs! PlEaSE aDd mE I wAnt tO hAvE mANy CaM fAnS!"_ posted by "Sandythemagicpony" nine hours ago and _"BACK OFF, CAMMY IS MINE! LUV YA CAMERON!"_ posted by "bubbleboybeau505" six hours ago. And the number of members was in the thousands…**THOUSANDS! (4)**

As Cameron was struggling to wrap his head around this, his mouth slowly fell until it couldn't drop any more and it looked like his eyes grew so large that they were bigger than the lens of his glasses.

Dakota couldn't help but laugh at the adorable expression on Cameron's face. Once she stopped laughing, Dakota asked out of genuine curiosity, "How did you not know about this?"

"Oh…I, uh, I've never owned a cell phone before. And I've rarely gone on the Internet period. I've spent most of my time after this season was over either "hanging out", that's the term right," Cameron said with a questioning emphasis on **"right"** before continuing, "with my first friends ever or working on stuff to help you."

"Aw, that's why you are such a cutie pie!" Dakota exclaimed, as she hugged Cameron.

Once again Cameron found himself blushing wildly. It isn't every day that a girl as beautiful as Dakota kisses you on the cheek and hugs you. True he had hugged her but somehow her being the one that hugged him gave the act more meaning. Especially for someone like Cameron, since he never had any physical contact period with any females before except his own mother.

"Ho-how did you discover…**this** Dakota?" Cameron asked, still in a happy shock after the hug ended.

"Since I've spent most of my time after becoming normal again in this place, I've spent most of my time when I wasn't with Sam, you, my other friends, or the doctors on the Internet. Bored one day I started to look at what the Internet had to say about us and I very quickly discovered that you've become quite the little celebrity among the ladies."

"I-I…I have?"

"You got it Cammy! It seems that you coming into your own and helping others made you this season's Casanova. Like how Cody became the ladies' man of the first cast with a literal legion of fan girls."

"Re-Really? Wo…wait! Does that mean I have fan girls like Sierra!?" Cameron asked in alarm, realizing the possible price of such appeal to the opposite sex that Cody paid.

"Yes you do. But I've gotten to know at least a few of your most vocal fan girls and they are definitely not the stalker type," Dakota said before adding with a sly smile, "Would you like to see them?" **(5)**

Cameron looked at her with wide eyes and his mouth open. Not only did Dakota claim that there was a "literal legion" of lovely ladies with an interest in him…but she was actually able to offer proof! The former bubble boy remained this way for a bit.

Giggling at Cameron's expression, Dakota asked, "Should I take that as a yes?"

Cameron nodded his head, with his eyes and mouth exactly as they were.

Smiling at the cute expression on Cameron's face, Dakota typed on a few of her phone's tiny keys for a few seconds. As she typed, Dakota said, "Here is the first of your three most vocal fan girls who I've gotten to know thanks to a lot of on-line chats with them. All three have said that they would love to get to know you and date you."

After saying that she handed the small electric device to Cameron. The black teenager looked at the phone's screen through his lens-covered eyes.

He couldn't believe what he saw, the picture of a girl who was sitting on the front lawn of what appeared to be a Christian school on a sunny day with her legs folded in front of her. No, scratch that! This wasn't a girl…it was an angel! Even if she wasn't an angel, she was just as lovely as one. Her long and flowing blond hair attested to the divine. The same was true of her eyes, those light blue eyes that seemed to show the best of what people could be. Based in his extraordinary ability at gauging measurements with only his eyes, Cameron judged that she matched the average in terms of female height and chest size. He then took note of what she was wearing: a white blouse, a blue skirt, and (somewhat oddly) dark blue sports shoes. He then noticed the last two details worthy of note, a golden cross necklace and a Bible presented on her lap.

As Cameron absorbed the details of this picture into his memory, Dakota elaborated on who this girl was with what she learned after many on-line discussions with her.

"This is Hannah. As you likely have guessed, she's a very religious Christian girl. I'm ashamed to admit it but I thought she was going to be a one those self-righteous and intolerant types. Luckily though, she couldn't be further from that. It seems that she realized, because of having a grandmother who was that way that she didn't want to become that stereotype. And while staying constantly committed to avoiding that, she's still taken an active interest in her local church and charities. Anyway, she says that she was really touched by you finding your inner strength against great odds, your dedication to both Mike and Zoey in their hours of greatest need, and being a positive influence on those around you. She's occasionally called you 'a cute Chuck Norris whose been blessed by God'. I'm not sure if that's true but what I am sure of is that Hannah is a great girl. But what do you think of this girl of God?"

"I-I think that sh-she's…beautiful!" Cameron struggled to say, entranced by Hannah before adding quickly, "And she seems very nice!"

Smiling even more at her entranced friend, Dakota asked, "Would you like to see the next one?"

Taking Cameron's frozen but happy face as a yes, Dakota took back her phone and typed on a few keys before giving back to him.

After Cameron took back the phone to look at the picture of the next girl, the phrase _'as different as night and day'_ entered his mind. Whereas Hannah's picture had shown a bright sunny day, this picture showed what might have been a moonless night. But then Cameron realized that it was in fact a room with the lights turned off. Admit the black, Cameron saw many blue flame candles (the only source of light), a pentagram drawn in red paint on the ground, and a poster hanging on the wall showing an unsightly monster. A monster that boasted the form of a human caricature the size of a mountain, a body covered in green scales, a pulpy multi-tentacled head, and massive gargoyle wings. What Cameron couldn't see was the girl, only her sitting outline within the red pentagram.

"Uh, Dakota, I can't really see the girl in this picture." Cameron informed.

"Oh! I forgot about that. Sorry. Allow me to brighten up the image for you." Dakota as she took back the phone, pressed a few keys, and gave it back to Cameron.

Looking at the newly brightened up phone screen, Cameron saw a girl who matched her surroundings. In contrast to all of the black in the image, the girl's platinum white-dyed hair, which was tied in a terra-twist, stood out the most. Coming in at a very close second were her eyes, which were a bright blood red (likely from crimson colored contacts). Again, Cameron was able to gauge that this girl was pretty short (maybe only slightly taller than him) but she had a very large chest, especially for a girl her size. A black tube-top, matching her black aoi cache pants, was part of what showed her bigger breasts. Adoring her body were various arcane-themed accessories: a skull-iconed choker necklace, a tattoo of a black star on her upper right arm, gloves with frayed edges, and black skull earrings. But the most frighten of the fixtures were a drawn sacrificial dagger and a small scabbard.

Watching with uncertain fear but also an odd sense of entrancement, Cameron stared at the picture as Dakota began to tell him the tale of this impish girl bathed in black.

"This is Mandy. I may have had my suspicions about Hannah but I really had them about Mandy. For starters she's a cultist, a cultist who worships something called the Old Gods. She's particularly defensive about one called…uh, Klaatu? Ktulu? Clooloo? Cth…?" Dakota said before struggling with a name stranger than any she ever heard before.

"Cthulhu." Cameron said, after looking at the poster in the picture and piecing it together, "From the short story, _The Call of Cthulhu_, by H.P. Lovecraft in 1926."

"That's it! Anyway, it took me a while but I did discover that there was more to this girl than praying for the Old Gods to destroy all life. It turns out while she talks about sacrificing "foolish mortals"; she actually couldn't hurt anybody and owns many pets like rats and snakes. It seems to me that she's actually a very sweet but troubled girl. At first the only reason she gave for liking you was that she was so impressed by your progress on the show that you might be one of the few worthy of surviving the destruction of the world. Eventually I got her to admit that she also thought you were, "really, really, really, really cute", and she claims to hate the word cute. But, do you think she is cute?"

"Uh…well, sure! She seems a little scary but I'm sure she's really nice if you're telling me about her. And yes, she is…uh, really, really, really, really cute." Cameron said, becoming entranced for the second time in a span of time less than five minutes. He still didn't believe that any of the girls so far shown actually would want to go out with him.

"Very good. There's one last girl I want to show you," Dakota said as she took back her phone and pressed a few more keys. "She's your most vocal fan and in my own opinion, she would be the best match for you but you'll just have to see for yourself."

Dakota then gave Cameron her phone for the last time. He saw what looked like the inside of a massive bookstore, with a large shelf of books visible displaying everything from the plays and sonnets of William Shakespeare to _Dating for Dummies_. Being a reader of books his entire life within his bubble, one would think that Cameron would have been fascinated by the accumulated written knowledge of human existence. However, for literally the first time ever, books weren't what had him fascinated.

Instead what had his interest was the girl in the picture. To say that she was attractive would not only be putting it mildly but also a slanderous injustice to her appearance! Everything about this girl cried out for Cameron's happily rewarded attention. To start with, there was her long ebony hair, as black as coal and as smooth looking as fine silk. And then there were her eyes, which both in their green color and sparkle matched radiant emeralds. Her bright pink lips showed a smile both sweet and sexy. Using his proven skills of observation, Cameron quickly deduced that this girl was really tall, easily over six feet tall. But that deduction didn't come as quickly as the one regarding her…uh, well let's just call them what they are…her breasts, easily the biggest he had ever seen. And don't be fooled by Cameron's limited experiences with seeing breasts, they were very impressive and attractive by any standard. The size of her breasts was in part proven by them being only covered by a tube-top, similar to Mandy's, except this girl's tube-top was purple. Cameron next noticed her long legs, covered in fishnet leggings and a short black skirt. The final features that the former bubble boy stored in his biological memory banks were a belly button piercing and earring that were both heart shaped.

Cameron already had had his MESA-level mind blown wide open by the knowledge of his appeal to the female sex and seeing and hearing about two exceptional girls in particular. But now, this real life super-model was not only one of them but also the most vocal!

To an increasingly and pleasantly overwhelmed face on Cameron, Dakota told him about this third and final fan girl.

"And this is Anita. Let me address the first thing you're likely thinking, she is not a slut in anyway. It seems that Anita lost a really big bet and as punishment she had to make this her profile picture. This is a punishment for her because she wants to prove she's more than just a pretty face and beautiful body. She actually begged me to make sure you know that. And she truly is. She's a straight A student, knows three languages, has read and loves many of the classics, is a self-declared video game addict and geek, and plans on studying law in college.

"Anita says that from day one she was rooting for you. She thinks that your victory over Lightning and how you got it validated her opinion that smart, nerdy boys beat tough jocks any day. While she does think that you are beyond super cute, she's just as attracted to your intelligence and integrity. Like how you were able to come so far using cleverness without any dirty tactics as you helped others at the same time. She went on and on about how someone as honorable and sweet as you who wears there heart on their sleeve deserves a great, loving girlfriend. You would be the prefect boyfriend to her and she would do everything in her power to make you so happy that you'd never want to go back into your bubble. Anita sounds like a real winner to me but what do you think, Cameron?

"Cameron? Uh…Cameron? Hello? Earth to Cameron, do you read? Come in Cameron?"

Cameron just stood there, and barely at that, because his legs started to shake and almost buckle at the knees. He was now blushing so much that his black face almost looked purple. That last bit had done it. Whatever capacity for intelligent thought or simply just speaking in general Cameron had in him left him then. He had thought people like these girls would call him many nice things but "perfect boyfriend" was about as far from them as he could imagine. Cameron had just sort of assumed that no girls would be into him, since this season was his first experience with other teenagers.

Dakota's reassurances combined with this unbelievable new information made all of Cameron's guilt and gloom disappear instantly. As Dakota watched her blushing friend with a goofy smile on his face, she felt better now than she had at any point in her life aside from her time with Sam. She couldn't help but smile herself.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Isn't Cameron just the sweetest little thing! He does so much for me, wanting nothing in return, but he still feels guilty about not being able to do more. I can see why so many girls are into him. Now that he's been around people his own age, he really does deserve a nice, pretty girlfriend. I'm adamant that someone who's done so much for me and is so sweet doesn't get paired with some vile little harpy," Dakota said in beaming graduate and joy before adding in guilt, "…like I use to be."

"That's why I made sure to filter out all of the harpies and potential Sierras and get to know the most vocal ones left before telling Cameron about them. Any one of the three girls I showed him would make a great girlfriend." The self-identified reformed harpy said in an explaining tone.

Dakota then began chuckling to herself, remembering Cameron's expressions as he learned more and more about his newly found status on the Internet.

"Wasn't his face one of the most adorable things you ever saw? I wonder how Cameron is taking this news? I'm sure he will handle this in a calm and dignified manner, reflecting his personality."

(Static)

Cameron stares at the camera with an expression of awe, like his very capable brain hadn't fully processed the news about so many girls wanting to be his girlfriend.

"Girls…**LIKE**…me?" He asked himself as his face changed to one of contemplation, placing questioning emphasis on the word **"like"**.

The former bubble boy's expression then changed to one bursting with a previously unknown level of ecstasy as he exclaimed, "**GIRLS** like me!"

Then suddenly, Cameron's body went rigid as he sat up straight like a meerkat that heard a possible predator approaching. As he did, his face flashed the biggest smile it ever had.

The final and most amazing piece of the revelation then dawned on Cameron as he loudly proclaimed, mixing squealing, unrestrained jubilation with profound confusion, **"ME!?"**

With the most happily dopey face one could imagine, Cameron fell off of the side of the Confessional's toilet with his body just as happily rigid.

(Static)

The Confessional door opens and Scott enters the camera's vision in the doorway. He looks at the floor and developed a puzzled look.

"Hey bubble-boy, what are you doing on the floor? And what's with the goofy grin?"

"Girls…me…sports shoes… daggers…fishnet leggings… large breasts." Cameron said dopily while remaining on the floor and unseen by the camera.

"**WHAT!?"**

(Static)

Scott is now standing in the Confessional, holding Cameron by his shirt collar with both hands and shaking him violently. Despite that, Cameron has the same blissful expression.

"You listen to me Wonder Nerd, where the Hell are these girls your talking about!? It is criminal that I am not tapping pieces of ass so fine! If you don't tell me I'm going to tenderize you for that big flytrap that seems to be holding a grudge!"

Scott stops shaking Cameron but he still looks the same, far too happy to say a word.

"Ok, have it your way Hugh Hefner!" Scott said as he prepared one of his fists while holding Cameron up with one arm.

However a sudden knocking is heard from outside of the Confessional door.

Scott stopped his fist and said in a clearly annoyed tone, "Occupied!"

When the knocking continued, Scott dropped Cameron and began opening the door as he said, "I said, Occu…**YOU!**"

Scott was abruptly cut off when a fist rocketed its way into the ginger's face, sending him to the floor. The sleeve attached to the fist was a very light tan-yellow. Then the owner of the sleeve and fist, Sam, appears in the camera's lens as he picks up the still blissfully oblivious Cameron and carries him away.

(Static)

Scott is alone in the Confessional with his preexisting large shiner from earlier and a new bloody nose. He is clearly not pleased, presenting an angry frown.

"Are that nerd's fists **'BLEEPING'** magnetized to my face!?"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

A few minutes after Cameron and Dakota had finished their heartfelt exchange, something without a heart approached it. Mad Mikey gazed at the next on its endless list of targets that had to be destroyed. That transmission tower, that spire of black metal over looking the island with indifferent electronic eyes, was tasking it, mocking it.

And Mad Mikey was never one to care much for mocking, unless it was the one doing the mocking. As it approached the summit of sound, Mad Mikey thought about the soldiers it had defeated. A dark chuckle escaped Mike's mouth as the demon controlling Mike remembered the state it left them in. Even more amusing was the fact that they soon wouldn't be alone, they and those inside would very quickly become nearly inseparable.

* * *

Back at the Milton Medical Faculty, Cameron and Dakota had joined those in the main lobby. The two were in better spirits than when they went to the lower levels. They along with Dawn were consoling Zoey, who was still extremely shaken by what had happened. The events that would soon transpire would only shake her more.

After about fifteen or so of those three consoling Zoey, suddenly the alarms to the faculties' defenses went blazing. Something had entered the faculties' perimeter! Every heart leapt in fear. Was it Mad Mikey? A panicked voice on the faculties' intercom system would address such fears.

"_Attention, attention! There is no enemy hostile! All available medical staff report to the entrance immediately! Repeat! There is no enemy hostile! All available medical staff report to the entrance immediately!_

Curious about what the cause for alarm was if it wasn't Mad Mikey, all of those in the lobby rushed towards the entrance. When they reached it, many were out of breath. However, when those out of breath saw what was there, they held frightened breath.

Before them was a sight so horrible that it could easily have passed for being part of the legendary Nine Circles of Hell from Dante's _Inferno_. What they saw was vaguely comparable to the Breaking Wheel found in medieval France, a form of execution in which a person was tied to a large wagon wheel and as their limbs were broken by a large metal rod they would be interwoven into the spokes. The process would be repeated with the wheel being spun each time a limb was broken until both arms and legs were part of the wheel. And there would be a final "blow of mercy" delivered to the head.

What they saw before them were no wagon wheels but instead they were human balls.

**Balls made of human!**

They saw three groupings of humans in the shape of large balls, there arms and legs broken and interwoven into each other. And they were moving. They were alive! And it wasn't only the bodies of the soldiers that were there. There were also those who were the interns and employees working in the transmission tower.

Regardless of whether they were soldiers or civilians, man or woman, old or young, they were all in the same Hell. They were all experiencing every bit of pain one would have to endure from having both arms and legs broken, having them tightly interlocked with other broken limbs, and then having been rolled towards the large metal doors of this place as if they were part of a gruesome game of bowling.

In a sick way, they were. If they were the bowling balls, the teenagers were the pins. But these human pins being knocked down wouldn't come from physical contact but instead the intense fear generated from seeing the human bowling balls.

And in that sense, they were all becoming strikes. Every single person who saw this, including the teenagers who were the intended targets, was scared **'BLEEP'**-less! Seeing this sight beyond words was bad enough but what made it worse was that two statements from not so long ago rang in the minds of many who were in the presence of Mad Mikey.

"_I will mold men into monuments to my might and their powerlessness before that might. Proven by them twitching and wreathing in __exquisite__ agony but not ending their pain."_

"_You may listen to my plans and think that they are grandiose and a lot of hot air, maybe even impossibly fantastical. However, it will not take you long to realize that I am always, very…__**literal**__."_

And that was about the most horrific revelation that anyone there could have imagined, that Mad Mikey was, in fact, intending to be…**literal! **

As the doctors began the delicate work of un-mangling the twisted people, they noticed something. One of the people in each of the balls had a sign around there neck. The person from the first ball was Commander Knight and the person from the second ball was Private Kenny. But who was the person from the third ball? His lack of a military uniform meant that he had to be one of those from the transmission tower. About the only details aside from that they could say with certainty was that he was very fat and short. The reason for this was because his body and face were so badly beaten that they partially resembled hamburger meat.

Once the three notes were collected, there contents were read for all to hear by one of the many employees of the island not taking care of the recently arrived injured.

**Note 1**: "For the military men, they were men of arms who were the legs of their army. So that's what I used them for, there arms and legs. For the others, it was just fun to do!"

**Note 2**: "I humbly request Zoey's presence at a Danse Macabre, a dance of death, taking place at the Pet Cemetery deep within the Haunted Forest."

**Note 3**: "Be prepared for a very special message on the television in about fifteen minutes. Trust me, your going to want to see it. Especially since everyone else will. It will be the talk of the town, in every town on Earth…that has TVs of course."

* * *

The fifteen minutes ticked by a pace unbearable to many. In the time that they waited, the minds of many were beginning to fester with frightened uncertainty. Everyone aside from those needing medical attention and the doctors treating them waiting in the lobby. Some were just stared at the many black television screens around them…watching. Others were trying to lift the spirits of others, however difficult that would actually be.

Suddenly, the television monitors of many sizes and shapes began to display static. Every pair of eyes turned to one of many monitors.

_As the crackling of the white noise was heard, the once stagnate screens came alive, with scattered bits of white falling without pattern against solid black as snowflakes at night. _

_As the static starts to clear bit by bit, a sound is heard. An upbeat tune is being whistled. But not just any tune, it's the opening music to the classic Looney Tunes cartoons. _

_Despite the upbeat tune, the camera is shaking uncontrollably. When the static fully clears, the beast with the emerald eyes is seen. It's smile as large as it is unsettling. _

"_Good day to all you lovely ladies and genital gentle-men. Do not touch that remote, there's nothing wrong with your television set. I have hijacked the signal of every working television on Earth to send this very special message. But who am I?_

"_I am Mad Mikey. And you might be asking yourselves, as you get fatter on your couches, 'why is this Mikey so gosh darn mad?'"_

_Its smile vanished and was replaced by a look of distain before it continued._

"_Though I realize the majority of you are more likely thinking, 'What the Hell happened to my __**'BLEEPING' **__stories!? Who ever did this is about to get my __**'BLEEPING'**__ cane up his ass!' Or for the more specific of you, 'How will I know if Sam finally gets his cherry popped!? Or if it's not crushed into a cherry pie by his mutated mademoiselle?'" _

_After speaking with clear distain, the smile shot back on Mike's face as if it were rubber._

"_Well, no matter! In fact, the answers to those questions are one and the same. Though, to those of you wanting to know about Sam's cherry…naughty, naughty!" _

_That last part was emphasized with it waging Mike's finger at the camera while making a 'ta ta ta' sound before continuing. _

"_Now then, back what has made me so gosh darn mad…" Mad Mikey began to say stone-faced before a smile slowly creped its way back onto to Mike's lips. _

_The demon then placed both hands over Mike's mouth as it let out a light, artificial chuckle. _

"_Oh, I am so pitifully embarrassed to say this but there's this red head. A shy, sweet girl named Zoey. And I just can't take out of his…my, my mind." Mad Mikey said, once again switching from a tone of relishing joy to one of dead seriousness before adding, "No matter how much I want to."_

_Once again after the seriousness, the twisted pleasure in Mad Mikey's voice came back in full. _

"_I tried to reach out to her, to my Helen of Troy, but men at arms kept us from each other. Homer, eat your heart out. Sadly she got away. At least what came as a result wasn't a ten yearlong war, right? Even though that amount of bloodshed would be earned by reaching her. But don't worry, I simply explained the reality of the situation to the men at arms and then proceed gave them a very stern talking to. I might have been a little to excessive in my language I admit but all's fair in love and war, yes?"_

In the pause following that rhetorical question, those watching reacted with disbelief. This monster did **THAT** to those people and called it "a very stern talking to"!?

_When Mad Mikey resumed speaking to the camera, it began to shake a little bit more. _

"_Sadly resistance didn't just come from them. I came here, to this transmission tower, with no motive more sinister than sending my Zoey a kiss by wire, maybe to get__** her**__**heart**__ on __**fire?**__ But when they didn't want me to I had to rely on my powers of prose once again. I guess I was able to show just a pinch more restraint this time as I left one un-phased, the cameraman of this little sin-filled __**sinny real horrorshow**__. In fact, let's give him his fifteen minutes of fame, give or take fourteen and a half."_

_With that, Mad Mikey began walking towards the camera. As it did, there was a loud girl-like scream and the camera suddenly began to move all over the place as a shape ran past it. The lens of the moving camera revealed something to those watching, it revealed a control room that looked like a twister had torn it apart with the unconscious employees all over the place. _

Those watching reacted with expressions ranging from loud alarm to quietly disturbed. Those expressions only increased when the camera appeared to be steadied.

_Indeed, the demon was back in the center of the now totally static shot. But it wasn't alone. Being held by his shirt collar was a young man, fat and short, who was the person who the note from the third human ball had been attached to. With an expression of unhidden fright on his face, the intern in Mad Mikey's grasp turned to the camera. _

"_HE'S __**'BLEEPING'**__ CRAZY!" The intern shouted in a panicked but understandable matter._

_Providing a horrifying contrast, Mad Mikey addressed the intern in absolute clam as it said, "There no need for such strong language. Even though it's just bleeps and lies."_

_The freighted intern stared in total confusion, unable to understand what Mad Mikey meant on either what it called "lies" or even more strangely "bleeps". _

"_Oh my fat little friend, you quickly learn such judgments are only a matter of opinion. After all, crazy people don't think there crazy. And seeing as most of you watching me right now have that view, then congratulations!" Mad Mikey said to the intern in a matter-of-factly tone before turning Mike's head so that it was looking straight into the camera and finishing its thought with emphasis, "Because your __**'BLEEPING'**__ crazy!" _

_After it stared into the camera for a few moments with a 'think about it' expression on Mike's face, Mad Mikey once again addressed the intern in Mike's hands. _

"_Now then, please tell the good people what you are currently feeling and doing right now, would you?"_

_Seeing that the monster was serious, the intern nervously told the camera what had happened to him and how he was taking it._

"_Well, uh…good people, I'm currently being held by my shirt collar by a raving, superhuman psychopath who has just gone ape-'__**BLEEP' **__on everyone else in this building. I fear he is going to hurt me quite a bit now. I am currently wetting my pants."_

"_Right, right, and don't worry about it!" Mad Mikey exclaimed with its by now copyrightable sadistic passion before adding, "There's nothing to be ashamed of…all dead men revive themselves as their last action on Earth."_

_Savoring the look of terror on the intern's fat face, Mad Mikey tried to keep Mike's face serious but couldn't help but burst out into loud laughter. _

"_Oh, that look on your face…priceless! Don't worry; I'm not going to kill you. The one I want to kill is Zoey. And do you know why?_ _You may call me rank sentimental old fluff but I feel one's first time should be special, with that oh so special somebody._ _A somebody so special that when its over I might wear her pretty, ruby head like a hat."_

_Mad Mikey then turned to the camera again and said, "Excuse me viewers while I go beat this intern to a bloody pulp off-screen as I pretend that he's my future hat girl."_

_With that Mad Mikey walked calmly out of the camera's line of sight. Less than a second after doing so, a rapid series of strikes and loud wet popping sounds were heard along with the screams of the poor intern who Mad Mikey made its televised sacrificial bull. _

This got the majority of those watching to scream at the top of their lungs. Even the guys who did so felt no shame, as everyone could understand such a reaction to this callous cruelty. But none were more horrified than Zoey. Not only was the act itself terrible but Mad Mikey said it did it while imagining the victim was her. **She was the one who it wanted to kill!** Like everyone else, Zoey became quiet when Mad Mikey returned to the camera's electric eye.

"_Those of you watching me must think of me as cruel, vicious, or even downright nasty. Well, it's too bad that those opinions are so easy to dismiss. You see, you humans may be appalled by my actions but that's only because you haven't realized something even worse…you think they are horrible but you have no ethical legs or moral high ground to stand on. I'm merely acting with the same amount of restraint that you do at your very worst, and might I add, most honest. _

"_Call me crazy but let's look at the world, in the past and present, under your watch." Mad Mikey said as a massive screen behind it that until this point went unnoticed suddenly showed static. As those watching would quickly discover, Mad Mikey had made a little montage to drive its point home a bit more. _

"_Tell me, can any of you honestly defend a world in which so many of your fellow people, in either body or mind, have more of a resemblance to the dead than the living?"_

_The first part of the montage was a collection of moving historical footage that certainly was not lacking in the depressing department. The images that were shown included: black and white footage of the liberation of Nazi concentration camps with piles of the skeleton resembling dead surrounded by the skeleton resembling living, modern colored footage of an African infant with his stomach bloated but his limbs as thin as dry sticks because of starvation and flies swarming around his closed eyes and his open crying mouth, and colored footage of a bunch of older men in business suits as they talk about some meaningless business jargon. _

"_In which hypocrisy and sadism in countless colors and shades are so rampant as to be tolerated, to be trivial?_

_The second succession of images included a series of still pictures. The attractions in this gallery of the gruesome included: a black and white photo of a line of poor black people during the Great Depression with a billboard behind them showing a happy white family in a car and the message: __**"WORLD'S HIGHEST STANDARD OF LIVING: There's no way like the American way"**__, a colored image of South Vietnamese General Nguyen Ngoc Loan shooting captured __North Vietnamese soldier Nguyen Tat at point blank range in the head during the Vietnam War, and __a colored image of a cherubic baby girl no older than two with half of her skull gone and a saucer of bone jutting from a bloody gash in what remains of her head from the Houla massacre during the Syrian Uprising. _

"_In which the worst of humanity is put on display as entertainment for the so-called "good" without shame?"_

_This time it wasn't a series of historical film footage or famous photos that played itself out. Instead what played were clips of tv shows and movies like: The Jersey Shore, The Jerry Springer Show, Hell's Kitchen, American Idol, the Twilight series, Disaster Movie, Hostel, Batman and Robin, and Garbage Pail Kids. Even though there gruesomeness was lessened because they came after the horrific image of a murdered baby girl, the clips of pop culture shown could unnerve almost as much. _

_The massive screen behind Mad Mikey became static before returning to solid black. _

_Mad Mikey waited a minute for all of that to sink in before resuming its monologue. _

"_You must be thinking that I'm casting things in a false, unflattering light. It may be unflattering, but it's far from false. To indulge you and play Devil's Advocate, I shall conjure up an example of how humanity has no moral high ground to stand on. Just so my opinion doesn't overpower any opposing view too easily, I'll ignore the countless examples of war, genocide, racism, corruption, and hypocrisy happening right now. Instead, I'll focus on something you are all likely a little more familiar with…Chris Maclean."_

Everyone in the room turned towards Chris, who looked even more shocked now than when Dr. Johnson chewed him out earlier.

"_Just ask yourselves the following, __**'What has he done as this show's host and what is it representative of on a larger scale?'**__ Let's recap…" Mad Mikey said as the massive screen behind Mike's body once again came to life in the throngs of static. _

"_He's openly gloated about how he puts teenagers in life-threating situations." _

_The first part of what would be the final sequence of montaged images showed moving footage, from Total Drama itself over its four seasons, many examples of the danger the contestants had faced. While there were more images than just these, the most convincing ones were: the former contestants being chased by the giant Woolly Beavers and Stymphalian Canadian Geese of Boney Island, the former contestants nearly drowning during the Escaping a "Sinking" Submarine challenge, all of the former contestants fleeing Hawaii as a volcano erupts, the current contestants nearly dying in a radioactive mine, a former and current contestant being buried alive together, and the three final current contestants having to deal with Larry. _

"_Either directly or indirectly, he's admitted to playing a part in setting up relationships only so he can feed off of the pain when they come crashing down." _

_As the second set of moving images appeared, the biggest notable difference from the first set was that this time what was shown were particular former contestants at very particular moments. What these images showed included: Courtney being dragged from away after Harold tempered with the votes right after she and Duncan kissed, Gwen and Trent's kiss being interrupted after Heather tricked the others into voting him off, Gwen and Trent breaking up, Chris showing Gwen Trent's elimination, the many fights between Duncan and Courtney, Gwen and Duncan kissing in the Confessional, and Chris gloating about leaving the bathroom door unlocked on purpose in the Jumbo Jet's cockpit. _

"_He's even shown total disregard for the various, incurable scarring's of his fellow humans, both physically and mentally, due to his actions and choices." _

_The last collection of edited footage showed the campers who suffered more than others because of their time on Total Drama. What was shown included: Ezekiel as a feral teenager rip-off of Gollum, Alejandro being made into a lame Darth Vader rip-off after being horribly burned in volcanic lava, Scott as a human vegetable in the trauma chair, and Dakota as the thing that she came to fear more than anything else, the Dakotazoid. _

For whatever reason, it seemed like that there were more images of the Dakotazoid. As Dakota watched, she became upset. Just looking at that gruesome face was enough. To be reminded that she was, and still could become, that horrible monstrosity. But luckily, she felt something big and warm give her a hug from behind. Turning to see Sam behind her, Dakota gave the gamer a very faint smile.

"_And let despite all of that, despite how his practices smack the so-called morals of man right in the face, he's not only remained employed but his shows have viewers in the millions! Yes, he is a monster. But like all monsters, he has your silent approval and consent. It is not his hand alone that pulls on the great chain of suffering into the future. No! __**Your fat, little fingers are right there, next to his!**__" _

_Mad Mikey began shaking Mike's head back and forth in a disapproving matter. _

"_So many viewers, so many dimwitted dunces. None of you noticed it, how truly sad. Was no one else puzzled by how long it took for the latest season of Total Drama to begin? Despite whatever you were told, it had nothing to do with some business in Japan about earthquakes, tidal waves, and nuclear accidents. Why would it? The show takes place in Canada! In truth, Maclean and his people were preparing for something after this season was over and the contestants left the island."_

In the pause before Mad Mikey resumed speaking, everyone who had there eyes on Chris hardened their gaze. They did so both for being reminded of what they had to endure this season and for whatever he had been preparing for.

"_You see, as has been revealed a few times over this past season, the Canadian government and several international environmental organizations are breathing down Chris' neck to arrest him for his countless crimes against nature on this so-called island. At the same time, his producers of this show have generously supplied Chris with enough explosives to beginning a small-scale war._

"_So, with so much firepower and a skyscraper's worth of problems based solely on this island's existence, what do you think a callous sadist like Chris Maclean has planned? Seeing has how he has the philosophy of "going out with a bang" and would just hate to waste the several megatons of explosives on this island, I think you can guess his plan."_

The gazes on Chris became even more intense; one would think for sure that Chris was about to spontaneously combust.

"_And it's not merely a plan. Chris has everything set in place, including a master detonator for the whole thing. Which I…" Mad Mikey said before suddenly putting a surprised expression on Mike's face as a finger that had been previously pointing straight up instantly bent over like a withering flower. _

"…_Oh, oh dear…I'm ashamed to admit it but I literally just realized that despite my best efforts I haven't gotten this detonator. Oh, this is so embarrassing. I apologize for inconveniencing you, members of the t.v viewing public. Just allow me to get my car keys out of these pocket so I can go drown my sorrows and embarrassment in gallons of ice cream." Mad Mikey said in a manner that conveyed deep and stinging defeat._

_True to its word, Mad Mikey than began rummaging through Mike's pants pockets. As Mad Mikey pulled out a seemingly endless supply of odd objects from Mike's pockets, it couldn't help but add a commentary to the activity. _

"_Let's see what we got here…_(a rubber chicken)_…no…_(an old sandwich)_…no…is this it…_(a lemon)_…nope…_(a turtle shell)_…negative…_(an alarm clock)_…so that's where that ended up…_(a black bra)_…oh I've been looking for that_…(a large boat anchor)_…that's definitively not it…_(a live rabbit)_…ok…but where's the…_(a dead rabbit)_…ah there it is…_(the Hope Diamond)_…shiny but worthless…_(the Holy Hand grenade of Antioch)_…oh come on…_(the secret recipe to Kentucky Fried Chicken)_…seriously…_(a Looney Tunes-like wooden sign which had **"Where did he get all of this stuff?"** written on it in black paint)_…why does what you want always have to be at the bottom when you want it! I mean its some serious bull…__**AHA, I FOUND IT**__!"_

_But the object that it pulled out of Mike's pocket wasn't a set of car keys. Instead it was a device that looked very similar to a remote control for a modern television. _

Chris abruptly began picking through both his shirt and pants pockets. With all of his pockets now inside out, Chris looked up at the screen with a look that none of the campers had ever seen before. The cast of the fourth season had all seen Chris look scared before, mainly when Heather tried to steal his blimp with all of his Gemmie Awards, but this was something else. Chris' face had all of the good cheer of a mouse about to be disemboweled by an angry owl.

He didn't have to say anything; the teenagers understood exactly what had happened. No explanation was necessary, but Mad Mikey gave on anyway for the Hell of it.

"_I really am so forgetful sometimes. I sincerely apologize for my pervious apology. I had forgotten that I had checked in Chris' other pair of pants last night and just happened to come across this, __**the island's master detonator!**__" Mad Mikey said in a manner that said it wasn't sorry in the slightest. _

"_I must say that Chris really out did himself with this system. Beneath my very feet, there's an elaborate network of independent bombs with a grand control station under ground that's containing the biggest of the bombs. Though each bomb can be detonated individually, __**if that big bomb goes off, they all will**__. And if that happens, let's just as that this "island" will meet the same fate as the real island of_ _**Elugelab**__ since __**I'm going to sink this bitch!**__" Mad Mikey said while twirling the remote in Mike's hand. _

_As it spun, a new image formed behind Mad Mikey, well two images actually. The first image on the left was of a patch of forest, clearly part of one of the many that were on the island. The second image on the right was of Chris' helicopter pad, complete with his helicopter, the only means of getting on or off the island. After the two images came up, the remote stopped its spinning and the demon then added, "And just to show that I'm not bluffing."_

_The demon pressed a few buttons, to confirm its god-like control over the lives of those on the island. Still holding the remote, Mad Mikey hunched over with a finger in each of Mike's ears. Mike's face was scrunched up and the eyelids were shut in preparation for the explosion. After several seconds, the explosion still hadn't come and the patch of forest along with Chris' helicopter remained exactly as they were._

"_Where's the kaboom?" Mad Mikey said as it opened Mike's eyelids while looking confused for a moment. Standing up straight, it looked at the screen angrily with Mike's hands clenched into fists as it continued with, "There was suppose to be a Earth shattering ka…"_

**BOOOOOOOMMM!**

_Right as Mad Mikey was about to say __**"boom"**__ the universe seemed to do so on its behalf as suddenly the patch of forest that had been shown went up in a fiery explosion. As the once mighty trees whether came crashing to the earth or were set ablaze, the tiny bodies of various mutated animals filled the bottom of the image. Their blackened corpses were islands admit a sea of shifting red for the few seconds before the fires consumed them. At the exact same moment, Chris' helicopter exploded into a million smoking pieces. Whether man or nature made it, it all burned. Anything else could join that fate. _

_Looking pretty pleased with this demonstration, Mad Mikey once again began talking to the countless millions of viewers. The red glow behind it from the flames gave its words an additional ominous foreboding, even though such was not necessary given the words. _

"_Now that I have your undivided attention, its time to explain the outlines for improvisation during this vicious cabaret. First, to those of you in the audience, the people with big guns and military ranks, you should stay where you are. If I find anyone trying to interfere with this little tango, you'll be treated to the tranquil image of twelve poor, unfortunate teenagers and countless others turning into flaming skeletons. Second, if anyone, cast or crew, try to leave the island, see the descriptive image just mentioned for what will happen. Trust me, I'll know if anyone steps outside of the outlines for improvisation. _

"_And now that the outlines are out of the way, we get to the ballet on the soon to be burning stage, the crux of the conflict. I offer the twelve former campers on this island something that life is never kind enough to offer…__**a choice**__!"_

_Intentionally leaving a pause for the information to sink in, Mad Mikey resumed talking, now talking to the teenagers and the others in the Milton Medical Faculty directly. _

"_You all know exactly what I want, a certain red head. Make no mistake…I will get her. Whoever else goes down with her is a choice that falls upon you all to decide. _

"_If you give me Zoey, I'll let the rest of you leave the island without hurting one hair on your heads. Try to defend her, and I'll ensure that you all not only feel my wrath but that your pain is prolonged until the final moment when the fire consumes you all. _

"_I'll give you three hours to decide, unless I find proof of your resistance before that time. The instructions have already been sent; you'll know where to find me."_

_After leaving another pause for the purpose of reflection, Mad Mikey switched from talking directly to the teenagers to the rest of the world. _

"_To everyone watching from afar, consider what you are about to see **the human condition in microcosm**. A Greek tragedy in every tongue, a requiem mass with the final death note sung. A sickening display of senseless violence and rampant property damage! The stuff that makes life worth living, to whatever capacity life has any worth that is._

"_And I realize that many of you haven't understood a single word I just said because you don't speak English. However, given the world in which you live, one of the Internet and other social media, it shouldn't take too long before the whole world will be watching." _

_Again Mad Mikey switched whom it was addressing but this time it wasn't the teenagers. It was only one teenager. _

"_Oh…and Zoey. We all know you look good in red, but you should ask yourself, does that color compliment your friends' figures as well? Think about it; reflect on that, won't you?" _

_And with that, the demon inside of Mike's body had only one last thing to say before ending its message to mankind. One last thing that had to said before the static returned. Except this time, the static's crackle would sound more like voices of the dead rumored to be within its electronic harmony. And the flakes falling, once thought to be white snow against black night, would be revealed as black rain falling to the Earth against the unnatural bright white light of an atomic blast. _

_"Th-Th-Th-Th-Th…That's all, folks!"_

* * *

"**Be king undisputed**

**Respected, saluted**

**And seen for the wonder I am**

**Yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared**

**Be prepared!"-Roger Allers and Rob Minkoff's The Lion King**

* * *

**Aside from the five footnoted parts of this chapter, there are only three quick things I want to comment on. First, I'm happy that I was able to quote a movie at long last but its even better that it was a Disney movie in the chapter where I use another Disney movie (as you'll realize). Second, the Nadsat words used this time are: ****Real Horrorshow (Really Good) and Sinny (Movie). And thirdly, all of the images that are described behind Mad Mikey when it's speaking of humanity's crimes except the one about the businessmen are actual photographs or historical film footage. **

**(1) The scene described on the movie screen as the soldiers fight and are beaten by Mad Mikey is the final segment of the 1940 Disney animation classic **_**Fantasia**_**, which of course means that the movie is the property of The Walt Disney Company. Like the rest of the movie, this segment was Disney having his animators draw a miniature story without any dialogue around some existing piece of classical music. In this case, it is actually two. The first (which plays over the stuff with Chernabog) was **_**Night on Bald Mountain, **_**which was composed by Modest Mussorgsky in 1867. The second (which plays over everything after Chernabog) was **_**Ave Maria**_**, which was composed by Franz Schubert in 1825. If you haven't seen this segment, please GO TO YOUTUBE AND TYPE IN "FANTASIA NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN"! Trust me, it is easily among the very best that Disney has ever produced and with their catalogue of quality that's saying a lot! Plus I feel that once you know the music and have the images in your mind the stuff written here will have more of an effect (at least that's my theory and hope anyway). **

**(2) While **_**Fantasia **_**is clearly the greatest influence on this whole sequence, there are two other pieces of entertainment that have an influence so strong that it would feel criminal to not mention them. The first is the "Tales of the Black Freighter" sections of the graphic novel **_**Watchmen**_**. I love these parts for using a small story totally different in content and style from the main narrative (a macabre pirate story based on **_**Tales from the Crypt**_** type horror comics) while still commenting on and adding layers to that same main narrative (a "realistic" portrayal of what the presence of superheroes might do to the world around them). As you can guess, that's what I hoped to have done with the use of the **_**Fantasia**_** segment. The second is **_**Star Wars: Clone Wars**_**, the amazing original 2-D cartoon by Genndy Tartakovsky. The reason why I mention them is because I based the battle itself off of the portrayal of General Grievous in that series, a seemingly unstoppable badass who effortless slaughters an entire group of Jedi with their beloved light sabers and singlehandedly starts to turn the tide of the war against the Jedi. Why George Lucas felt like he had to turn this awesome character into such a pathetic and mundane villain in **_**Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith**_** is beyond me! Anyway, for a better idea of how Mad Mikey is actually acting while fighting the soldiers, watch clips from this mini-series on Youtube. **

**(3) As you have likely guessed, this series of flashback sequences is a massive homage to the most classic of stories about the possible prices of man using science to cross lines that it was never meant to cross, **_**Frankenstein**_**. And I added just a pinch of **_**Young Frankenstein**_** at the end because it's such a great parody of the many film versions of **_**Frankenstein**_** made by 1974 (all of which differ from the book in great ways). These flashback sequences might be too long but they were electrifying (pardon the pun) to write. While writing these scenes I must have watched the scenes with Frankenstein's equipment from the movie **_**Van Helsing**_** (the only parts of that movie worth seeing in my opinion) and the classic "It's Alive!" scene from the (rightly) iconic 1931 film version of **_**Frankenstein**_** at least ten times. In fact, a lot of the equipment described in these scenes was devices used by ****Kenneth Strickfaden, the man who made the now iconic equipment of Frankenstein's laboratory and who basically invented the movie mad scientist laboratory. Also, I looked up a bit about the experiments happening in electricity before and around the same time as the 1931 movie. However, please don't think that I have a firm grasp on the science of electricity. I really don't and some of what I say is likely scientifically impossible. But since this is science fiction, it only needs to have some basic core of real science. **

**(4) So, let's talk about Cameron. Some of you might find it odd that I had Cameron basically experience what Cody did but I feel like it's a very strong possibility. After all, both are small, cute, sweet guys who put the needs of others before themselves. And besides, as soon as I thought of how Cameron might react to this news, I had to put this in because it was too funny! I have no idea if any such following of Cameron actually exists. If anyone knows one way or the other please let me know, ok?**

**(5) The three girls that Cameron is shown (Hannah, Mandy, and Anita) are all original characters from "Total Drama Battlegrounds" and as such belong to that great writer of Total Drama fan-fiction, The Kobold Necromancer (who I sent my descriptions of their appearances and personalities which he approved of). I truly love that story and the chance to inject a few of his great characters into my story was simply too much for me to pass up. If you haven't read this story or its equally amazing forerunner "Total Drama Comeback"…then please do! They really are THAT good and deserving of the following that they have obtained. Also, if you would like a better idea of what these girls look like, go to Cid-Vicious' profile on deviantart. He's done great pictures of all three of the girls from "Total Drama Battlegrounds" used in this story (though of the three my personal favorite is his picture of Anita) plus many more of that story's original characters. **

**One last thing I should note, the next chapter will likely take an amount of time to post closer to the fourth chapter than this one. Unlike this chapter, very little is actually written right now and there are a few areas that I'm a tad uncertain of. **

**Soon until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	6. Prays for Satan

**Author's Notes: Here we are at chapter 6! First and foremost, I must thank those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! You guys/girls are beyond awesome and I'm always very happy to see your numbers growing with each new chapter posted! However I have two very important things to say and three other slightly less important things to say before beginning this chapter. **

**First, remember when I said that the fifth chapter and this one were originally meant to be one? Well, that's no longer true. Now what was originally meant to be one chapter is in fact three! That's why this chapter is but a (mere) 27 pages long and the next one (that is over 90 percent complete) is going to be over 40 pages long. Between the length of the finished chapter being over 70 pages long, what still has to be written for the next one, and my basic desire to update this thing already, I decided to make this second half of a chapter into two second halves of a chapter! **

**Second, this chapter (and the next one) marks me trying to be just a tad more experimental with how to tell a story. Allow me to explain, once we are introduced to those in the Milton Medical Faculty, there will some words in bold (most often near the end of the section). And in the section that follows, which will be in a different location, those words before in bold will be repeated with a new meaning. Also, each set of events is happening at pretty much the same time. This is used in both this chapter and the next one (remember, they were meant to be a single chapter). **

**Third, yeah to me for crossing the 100,000-word mark! And to think, this story is only somewhere in-between a third to a half of the way completed. There is so much more to say and tell! **

**Fourth, I must give a shout-out to a story that has taken me by surprise since this September… "Total Drama Island: A New Beginning" by Argudas. This story, a re-telling of TDI, is beyond awesome! Based off of what has been written so far and what has been hinted at to me after becoming friends with the author, this story is EASILY in the Top 5 of best Total Drama fan-fictions! If you need proof of this story's greatness aside from me, this story has already gotten a page on TVtropes! After reading this chapter, I implore you with all of my being to read and review it! **

**Fifth, aside from one very important thing that I want to point out, there will be no endnotes this chapter. **

**Having said that, here's the sixth chapter of "Mad Mikey": Prays for Satan**

* * *

_"Th-Th-Th-Th-Th…That's all, folks!"_

With that, the Looney Tunes cartoon, that stared a real lunatic and wasn't a Warner Bros cartoon, ended. While the television screens of the Milton Medical Faculty were filling its lobby with the white noise that followed Mad Mikey's message, elsewhere the televisions screens of countless homes and other buildings were filling their respective spaces with the voices of anchormen and anchorwomen.

How it happened exactly no one could say. Was it because it such a slow news day (with no squirrels on little waterskies in swimming pools) or because the story had that indefinable perfect mix of immediate human interest and possible historical significance? For whatever reason, virtually every major television news network and news website spread the story of Mad Mikey in a massive informational firestorm.

Within thirty minutes of Mad Mikey's message ending, it would be translated from English into every other language used by the major nations of the Earth. And it wasn't just because of the message itself that it was spread so fast. In a classic example of the wolf in sheep's clothing, Mad Mikey had sent many additional bits of ratings-increasing goodness to the human vultures that called themselves news people. Those bits included the footage: of it battling the soldiers in the movie theater, it breaking the limbs of the soldiers, it making the human balls out of the soldiers and employees of the transmission tower, from Dr. Johnson's off the record experiments seven years ago, and the live camera feed of every location on the island except for the Milton Medical Faculty (which wasn't connected to the rest of the island's camera system).

This additional footage was doing what Mad Mikey intended beautifully, horrify the world with its abilities without showing humanity its ultimate goal until its hold over Mike was absolute that way there was less likely to be any outside interference in the three hour time limit given. The desire for personal gain of those reporting this news would make humanity fully aware of the horrible new presence in their world, adding a layer of dread before Mad Mikey even left the island. Whether the teenagers gave up Zoey or tried to defend her, the dread of the rest of the world would only increase as Mad Mikey further showed its power or will.

For some, even more than most because of one very specific reason, there was dread enough already. Dread felt only moments after Mad Mikey's message ended.

* * *

Turning her head from their television, Gwen's black eyes gazed at her single mother and her only brother. Looking at her mother, who matched her basic appearance even with un-relaxed eyes and brown hair, and her brother in a green T-shirt with a skull icon and a backwards-facing baseball cap, the Goth felt great worry and uncertainty after what had just been seen and heard. The two pairs of eyes focused on the teenage girl with pale skin and teal hair highlights reflected that same worry and uncertainty. The three were very glad to be with each other now and would not leave as Gwen's father had years before.

* * *

Bridgette and Geoff, who were sitting on the same couch less than an inch apart, stared at each other awkwardly. For the first time ever since becoming a couple, neither of the blonde surfers had a desire to make out.

* * *

Cody, who had been forcing Sierra out of the same window she tried to enter his room from, froze. Sierra, who was now half out of the window with Cody's hands on her as when he had been trying to push her out, froze. Both stared at each other with alarmed faces and did not move a muscle for some time.

* * *

Noah had seen the message in the place he spent most of his time, alone in his room. Watching Mad Mikey made something happen that (quite frankly) Noah thought was impossible, his practiced cynicism cracked. Even if his sarcastic, blunt wit hadn't.

"This is what I get for watching TV instead of reading! I take back every single bad thing I ever said about Izzy!"

After reeling from what he just said, the bookworm did something he thought he'd never do in a million years…he went downstairs to be with his parents and whoever of his eight older siblings happened to be home.

* * *

Staring at her television through a looping series of tubes connected to beakers and flasks, Izzy was acting very un-Izzy-like. The normally impulsive and undaunted red head felt a very rare daunting impulse, fear, crawl up her spine. Stopped in her efforts towards the noble goal of eliminating that unspeakable evil known as sparkly vampires, Izzy became unnerved and flabbergasted by something even more horrible than that!

"Is this how people feel around me when they call me crazy?" Izzy asked the empty room.

That question went unanswered as the silence in that room was filled by the voice of the anchorman on her television. The anchorman was a much older gentleman whose appearance and voice reflected a class and dignity very similar to that of Walter Cronkite.

"_We have word that the Canadian government has called for a special meeting to discuss what is to do about the hostage crisis happening at Camp Wawanakwa. Ambassadors from other governments, including the United States, will be joining this meeting. But with the entire world watching it's every move, it is not unreasonably pessimistic to speculate that the result of this meeting will be mired stalemate. The only realistic, yet unsatisfactory, conclusion apparent to this reporter is that those teenagers will be on their own." _

Whether it was due to the unsettling content or the anchorman, Izzy began a series of clicking's between changing channels (producing a an audible **'KILK' **each time) that only furthered her frightened feelings of confusion.

* * *

'**KILK'**

_A Japanese man in a modern suit is seen in a room decorated in a traditionally Japanese manner. The Japanese anchorman is handed some paper and starts to report on its contents. Unfortunately for Izzy, the anchorman was speaking in Japanese and the only words Izzy understood before changing the channel were the last two, "Mad Mikey"._

* * *

'**KILK'**

_A Polynesian man in traditional Polynesian dress is seen but he isn't speaking. Instead, he's hitting a hollow log with two drumsticks as a drawing of an airplane pointing downward is behind him on a piece of dried leather. _

_Someone off-screen hands the Polynesian anchorman (who was reporting the news in a idiotic and culturally insensitive manner) a second pair of drumsticks. As the Polynesian anchorman beats away on the same hollow log in a slightly different manner, the piece of dried leather with the airplane is taken down and replaced by one with a drawing of Mad Mikey._

* * *

'**KILK'**

_An older white man with a fairly unappealing face is seen sitting in a chair with nothing but black behind him. The lower right hand corner of the screen has the logo for "Wolf News" while the upper left hand corner has the words "Counter Point". _

_"Sheila, they signed their contracts, they knew what they_ _were getting into..." The older white man said to a woman off-screen before turning to look directly into the camera, "…I say, let em burn!"_

* * *

'**KILK'**

_The last news station was showing live camera feed from the island. The people presenting this live camera feed didn't know it but the section of forest that they were showing was the same that Mad Mikey was currently in. Why wouldn't it be? It was in a place where the dead and the ghosts of the past, staggering out of the underworld to collect the debts from some unresolved business among the living, resided. All debts were settled there and all were dead there…or soon would be._

* * *

Mad Mikey was walking through small section of the Haunted Forest right next to the Pet Cemetery. But it was walking in a very bizarre way, it was moving Mike's legs in a very slow manner with very long strides in-between each step, as if it were trying to sneak up on something despite there being not a living thing in sight.

For some reason Mad Mikey stopped it's odd walk and turned to face empty space. After doing so, it raised one of Mike's fingers and placed it in front of Mike's mouth.

"Shhh! Be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting wabbits!" Mad Mikey said before resuming its odd walk and laughing, "Huh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!"

After a few more wide gaped steps, Mad Mikey heard some rustling from a large bush directly in front of it. From out of that bush jumped an imposing sight. A grey rabbit! But not just any rabbit. Several features marked this rabbit as unique from any other: it was the height of two fully grown men on its hind legs, bugling muscles, and two angry heads. What showed the two heads to be angry were a loud roar and a display of big, nasty, pointy teeth. Such a display would have anyone run away after soiling themselves.

"Why hewwo, you wascally wabbits!" Mad Mikey said calmly to the radioactive rodent, still replacing most of the r's and l's with w's for some strange reason.

When it became clear that this grey rabbit wouldn't ask, _'Eh, what's up doc?'_, Mad Mikey leapt into the air right in front of the Two Headed Bunny. Grabbing a pair of long ears in each of Mike's hands, the demon forced the two heads to be at Mike's eye-level. Being held down by strength that they couldn't hope to understand, the two rabbit heads showed eyes reflecting primal fright. Savoring that image, Mad Mikey then proceeded to bash the two heads against each other many times with great force. It didn't take long for both of the big bunny's heads to shatter and resemble smashed watermelons. That jet of warmth, that rabbit watermelon juice, spattered on to Mike's chest and recreated the sensation of a hot faucet. Spraying over Mike's blue shirt, this fresh blood overlapped with partially dried blood.

After gazing over the big bunny with the bashed in brains, Mad Mikey once again turned to face seemingly nothing but this time there was that same devil's smile from earlier.

"I wied, I'm kiwwing mutants!" Mad Mikey said, in twisted parody of its previous statement before matching the laughter exactly, "Huh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!"

Indeed that was what Mad Mikey was doing now, **killing time**…**by** **killing animals!** It killed because it waited. Of course it had given the teenagers safe from its violent nature three hours to make their choice about whether Zoey would give herself over willingly or have to be killed by breeching the Milton Medical Faculty. Within that space of time, Mad Mikey knew that it would be strong enough to destroy that fortress' defenses with ease. And, as an added bonus, it ensured that no matter which choice was made, the agony and guilt of all of the teenagers but Zoey in particular would make their final hours torturous ones. However, that left hours, actual hours, in which Mad Mikey needed to entertain itself. And as the metaphorical graveyard's worth of freshly slaughtered mutants (ironically directly above the literal graveyard of mutated animals buried in their graves), it was clear that Mad Mikey followed in the path of many a human sadist and psychopath in that the best way to entertain oneself before killing humans was to kill lessor species.

But that's not to say that Mad Mikey was a human sadist or psychopath. And if that was the case, then what exactly was Mad Mikey? What was this dweller of the forests?

As amazing as it might sound to the modern reader, a being like Mad Mikey actually does have some precedent, in the history of human thought. In both _The War of the Worlds_ and _The Man of the Year Million_, author H.G. Wells speculated that the next evolutionary phase of life beyond man would be the same whether on Earth or Mars.

What Wells imagined was a life form with an internal anatomy of fantastic simplicity. The next step of evolution would result in a being basically comprised of an enormous nervous system linking every other remaining biological feature, mainly the eyes and the most basic of physical limbs. In other words, life forms that were nearly nothing but nerves. Of all of the many parts that make up the natural machine called man, only the brain would keep its core cardinal necessity. And not only that but the brain's importance would grow, becoming so powerful and immense that thoughts between life forms could be understood and interchanged without any physical intermediation. All other biological features would either be replaced by mechanical appliances of currently unperceivable perfection or no longer have any relevance due to once vital qualities not having any use.

In some ways, Mad Mikey was the next step of evolution that Wells imagined in 1893. Similar to Wells' Martians and future men, Mad Mikey was a life form that was basically a massive collection of nerves that could interact with others nerves by thought alone without any other biological features truly its own aside from its eyes. It had no muscles, no bones, no blood, no internal organs, no need for digestion or sleep, and no other external features.

But there were many vital differences as well. While Wells' imagined beings had bulky, cumbersome bodies and a need for machines capable of movements in swift and complex perfection, Mad Mikey could be just as swift and complex in moment without any mechanical assistance. If Mad Mikey had blood, it would be pulsating invincibility more akin to molten sliver than that sticky crimson lubricate coursing through human veins. Not only did Mad Mikey surpass all of the physical limitations of muscle and metal, it surpassed all of the physical limitations of this realm (to a degree whose full dimensions would only be known as this day of revelation and judgment progressed).

However, the two greatest differences between the imagined future beings of H.G. Wells and the present being in reality were also the two most obvious. Firstly, Mad Mikey was not its own presence. It was created by and inseparable from a weak human adolescent. Secondly, Mad Mikey did not come from the blood red sands of Mars and if it truly was the man of the year million, it had come into existence 997,988 years ahead of schedule.

Many concerns and issues festered in this being's mind but its place within the processes of nature was far from the most pressing. Why bother with such concerns when those processes, like the rest of nature, would cower before its existence and cease to exist?

But that did not mean that, unlike humanity, nature was completely hated by Mad Mikey. While it held the voluminous laws of man (physical, religious, legal, moral) in bitterest contempt as being unworthy of its otherworldly attention, Mad Mikey could at least partially respect one law. That law was the Law of the Jungle (as explained in Rudyard Kipling's _The Jungle Book_), which said, "…thou canst kill everything that thou art strong enough to kill…" The fact that Mad Mikey ignored the part about the same law that said that killing was only to be done for food and not pleasure was deemed trivial by the demon above man and seditious against nature. Besides, Mad Mikey did not love even this most primitive of laws and would destroy all of its relevance by destroying all the world's jungles and every creature that ignorantly followed this unspoken law.

Waiting for the chance to murder a few followers of the countless kinds of human laws, Mad Mikey resumed its slaughtering of the Jungle Law's followers to appease its appalling death-based appetite devoid of any physical hunger.

Hearing the pitter-patter of petite paws on patches of plants, Mad Mikey, the being that was a stranger to nature with no companionship among man, walked back towards the Pet Cemetery.

* * *

It's green eyes gazed on a collection of killed creatures of nearly every shape, size, and species that was to found on this part of the island. Sharing the same space as these corpses was a collection of concrete crosses and grey gravestones. Among the crosses, the two most attention grabbing were a small cross with a hamster wheel at the top and a large cross with an appearance matching two massive bones with _"Sparky"_ engraved in the center. And among the many markers of graves, some had elaborate displays and patterns while others had simple words engraved into their grim and grey granite. The tombstones with elaborate displays included: a tombstone with a hexagon at the center with _"Shelley RIP"_ written at the hexagon's center and the other sections of it broken up to mimic the pattern of a turtle's shell, a tombstone with a cat's head with X's over the eyes craved with the word _"Goodbye"_ above the cat's head and the word _"Kitty"_ below the cat's head, and a tombstone shaped like a fishbowl with the craved image of a fish and the engraved word _"Bubbles"_. Just a few of the messages left on the tombstones with only words were: _"Elvis", "Jimmy Hoffa", "Disco", "Your Name", "Violence in Animation", "Vampires' Respectability", "Garfield, The Grateful Dead", "Amusing Tombstones", "Duncan's Nobel Qualities", "Courtney's Kindness", "A Respected and Uncorrupted Gwen", "Subtle Simpsons References", "Frankenweenie Homage"_.

Taking in the sights of this burial ground for beasts, Mad Mikey looked for some sign of the life that it had heard moments before. After locating the creature that caused that sound, the bad one walked until it was in front of the tombstone saying _"Your Name"_. Looking down, Mad Mikey found a Six-Legged Rat. The rodent's pink, hairless body was shaking as if it was in a blizzard and its normally aggressive red eyes looked up in fright. But then Mad Mikey noticed something; beneath this rat was a litter of much smaller rats that also had six limbs each who were trying to hide under the larger dog-sized rodent. The sight before the demon was as clear as could be; a mother, though frightened beyond what its primitive brain could understand, was unmoving because of the primal instinct to protect its helpless young.

Such a sight would likely have caused some at least faint twinge of sympathy from many higher beings. Mad Mikey felt no such twinge, no such sympathy.

As the man-demon slowly approached the tombstone, its shadow got there first and covered all of the cowering creatures within its inevitable advance before the frightening figure reached them. The frightening figure, the being believed to have no weakness or flaw by all, heard the panicked whimpers of the rodents, the next bubbling note of life's requiem mass. Approaching ever closer, **the persona of Hell and damnation** saw that there was something rewarding in the rat's eyes, matching the Two-Headed Bunny's. Nature was about to be generous to Mad Mikey once again, offering more of its living wonders.

When all of a sudden, Mad Mikey stopped in its tracks. As its green eyes were diverted from the Six-Legged Rat and her litter, the rodents ran off into the woods as fast as their sextets of limbs would carry them. There was no reaction from Mad Mikey aside from a brief sigh for the kills it had just lost. But that was of little concern because something far more enticing had entered the Pet Cemetery directly behind Mad Mikey.

Though Mad Mikey already knew exactly what was behind Mike's body, it turned around anyway to gaze at the object foolish enough to appear before it. Mad Mikey saw the first one to challenge it, the first follower of any of the countless kinds of human laws. And this follower followed more laws than anything else on the island.

Having sneaked away without anyone noticing, one of those in the Milton Medical Faculty could not stand idly by while this demon was committing such massacres. Feeling the pain of **her** fellow children of the Great Earth Mother, **the protector of these mutated animals** now stood alone against this unnatural wolf.

**Dawn stood alone!**

The most petite person on the island with the possible exception of Cameron stood with her greyish-blue eyes glaring at Mad Mikey more intensely than anything before. Just has the Saint of Assisi had to stare down a wolf (the Wolf of Gubbio, that ate only human flesh), the Saint of Camp Wawanakwa did as well. But this wolf was staring back with eyes matching two glowing green moons in the blackest of nights. With eyes glinting as Mad Mikey showed a sinister teeth-exposing smile, the wolf once again thought that Nature was all too generous to the predators.

"Aw…Dawn, I had a feeling that I would be seeing you soon. I could imagine no other course of action as fitting for a member of the seraphim, the highest choir of angels. Literally translated as **"the burning ones"**, it's a very appropriate title. By the time I'm done with this island, you and everyone else here will be among **the burning ones**."

Though Dawn still held her ground and reframed from physically flinching, she was very frightened. And it wasn't just because of Mad Mikey's intention or actions that she was scared (even if they were valid enough reasons). In the silence after the demon's talk of burning ones, the seraph saw its aura. What she saw frightened her as such as the demon.

If Dakota's aura resembled a hurricane when Dawn read it earlier today, then Mad Mikey's was like the Red Spot of Jupiter, a violent storm the size of the three Earths. The vastness of it was something that Dawn literally could not have imagined before today. That vast aura crackled loudly, as if cursing angrily at her. Though not existing in the physical world, the Moonchild felt the concentrated energy swirling and convulsing as if it were bundled ribbons of electricity. It casted a cloak of un-seeable blackness around the form of a friend now absent. This clock resembled an infinite nest of black serpents, slithering and hissing, in all directions without pattern but endless drive. But more that, this aura of coal copperheads and cobras charged and changed the air itself. The atmosphere surrounding the body of the male teenager was not the same as that surrounding the female teenager. Realizing this, Dawn discovered a truth that no one, not even Dr. Johnson, had uncovered…even when passive, **the mere presence **of Mad Mikey could** morph and deform **the reality that it was so contemptuous of!

As the crackling aura and the subtle sounds of the air around Mike's body morphing were the only sounds in the air, Dawn stood tense. She knew at any moment that Mad Mikey would lunge for her with the intention of killing her. But it just stood there, watching and seemingly waiting. After waiting several minutes, Dawn had enough of this uncertainty.

"Aren't you going to attack me?"

Dawn was truly shocked when Mad Mikey lightly chuckled before giving its response.

"No, I'm not going to attack you. You may be an enigma Dawn, but you're not a complete one. You see I don't engage **pitiful notions of futility.** I know you well enough to know that if I try to attack you now, you'll go…"Mad Mikey said before stopping for a moment to lift Mike's right hand closed as fist and then opened it "…**Poof!**

" I still don't understand how you do your **little vanishing act** and silently move from one place to another as if you were **some kind of blonde Batman**, but that's irrelevant. It doesn't change the fact that I won't be able to do to you what I've done to a few of your brother and sisters, as you would call them." Mad Mikey said, briefly pausing to enjoy the look on Dawn's face as she once again noticed the collection of creatures that had been killed in this cemetery.

"Besides, even if you had some means of harming me, we both know that you wouldn't use them, right?" Mad Mikey added, already knowing the answer to its question.

"Yes." The Moonchild replied without any hesitation or shame despite her fear and woe.

"Then you're going to try and talk me down? **To appeal to my humanity?**" Mad Mikey asked, already knowing the answer for the second time in a row.

"Yes." Dawn said for a second time in the same way.

For its part, Mad Mikey merely shrugged before speaking.

"Suit yourself. Just know that I'm only allowing this because it promises to be a most amusing excise…for me. **Appealing to the humanity of something that's not even human**. A most fascinating farce indeed. The air and lightning of your atmosphere, the gods and demons of your myths and legends, have more relation and kinship to me than you or the human who's body my very existence is imprisoned in.

"What's more, if you preach on your little soapbox for long enough, I just might be able to catch you and have some real fun. We'll see just how committed you are to this.

"Let's see how skilled of a soothsayer you are, Dawn. Tell me oracle, what sooths do you have to say? What does **the future **hold?"

* * *

Finishing high school, attending and graduating college, getting a job, going out on dates, and falling in love…these were a few of the things that **the future **held for the majority of Canadian teenagers. Within the normalcy of these events and milestones were unspoken factors that might or might not be appreciated: the pleasantries of the insignificant, the joys of living day by day, the security of the familiar, and the tranquility of repetition.

But those unspoken factors were so far away from the teenagers at Camp Wawanakwa. What took their place were unspoken factors that had nothing worthy of appreciation. Instead they were factors that were not just beyond the range of these teenagers but almost anyone else, no matter their age or experiences in life.

To say that the air in the lobby of the Milton Medical Faculty was tense after Mad Mikey's televised message would only a slightly smaller understatement than saying that Beethoven was a little hard of hearing.

No body dared to say a single solitary sentence for what felt like many minutes. What could they say? Many were still reeling from the realization that their very lives were quite literally in the hands of a raving psychopath with superhuman abilities that already made it unquestionably clear that human life was cheap to it and it would kill them just because it really liked doing it!

A few of those in the lobby with a deep understanding of history couldn't help but compare the situation they were in at Camp Wawanakwa to the doctrine of Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD) during the Cold War (which was created in part because of the successful testing of the first hydrogen bomb **"Mike"**). Similarly, they were all now living on the limited and borrowed time of an inhuman shadow. Cast down by a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads and capable of being cut at any moment. Whereas the Cold War was in the explosive shadow of MAD doctrine, those at Camp Wawanakwa were in the explosive shadow of MAD Mikey. Despite however illogical and idiotic it was MAD doctrine was at least in theory based on the deterrence of death. MAD Mikey's plan was based entirely in death without the thought of deterrence.

Furthering the parallels between MAD doctrine and MAD Mikey, their big bombs had a corrosive effect on humanity even when passive. The mere presence of those explosive shadows morphed men by filling them with horror, and discord and distrust.

Perhaps one might be tempted by an understandable desire for optimistic thought to imagine that the mass of people that now share this fear would come together in some, vague universal sense of a mutual humanness secured in the craving for survival? That a bold, blitz spirit would see them through this ordeal by their ability to react with courage, initiative, and control in such a crisis?

As tense as they were, these moments would be proven as the last ones that could be described as calm and reflective. For the majority of the hundreds of people present, any courage, initiative, and control lasted less than…one minutes (and that's being extremely generous).

"My God! Are you people dense? He's going to blow up this island with the fire and the explosion and the hundred percent chance of pain! **Pain in the glayvin!**" A voice, which broke the tense silence and which no one could easily put a face to, exclaimed.

It would prove to be the first of many countless murmurs of irritation and concern, of a seemingly endless airing of grievances. All the voices seemed to be devoid of owners.

"That's right! Just think of the glayvin!"

"What the Hell is a glay…uh, it doesn't matter!"

"Were all goin' die! Were all goin' die!"

"Why didn't I go to any orgies!?"

"Why didn't I go to more orgies!?"

"I guess its time for us to bend over and kiss our asses goodbye."

"Screw that! You can if you wish but I will not say goodbye to my ass. I happen to like my ass!"

"Same here! My ass is hot and sexy!"

"I don't! I hate my ass. My cottage cheese ass!"

Even without logic behind them the words being spoken had a strange kind of validity to them, at least to minds already laced with paranoia. But one voice made more "logical" sense than any other.

"Wait! It's not us or our asses that he wants…he wants **her!**" Said a voice as a finger pointed to someone in the lobby. It was pointing at **Zoey.**

Suddenly all of the other rants and babblings were silenced in a second. Everyone began to stare at the teenage redhead surrounded by her friends. Caught up by this revelation, the majority of those present were greatly frightened, wildly and illogically. This was the first step towards a collective metamorphosis from a frightened group into a mob acting on a singular fear-based purpose. Reacting to what they fear the future will bring, it was something that was **destined to become a nightmare.**

* * *

"If you, we, don't stop treading down this path, the future will have…pain. Great pain. Suffering. Death. Many deaths. Your death." Dawn said, fighting hard to not show the emotions that the knowledge of this possible future was causing her to feel in what would prove to be the first of many internal clashes with the darkness of the gazing abyss.

And this wasn't just because of her vast valuing of all life. Ever since Mad Mikey revealed its true nature to Dawn, the Moonchild had almost been seeing two worlds at the same time: a concrete world of the present and the fractured, infinite variable world of the future. So what did it say when the two could only be told apart by one of them being on fire and not by them both displaying a landscape covered in corpses? And with every passing second, the future became more and more bleak. Unless Dawn was able to sway Mad Mikey, there would be pain on a scale that even Dawn was unable to fully fathom.

The demon merely shrugged Mike's shoulders and said, "Eh, I've had a good run."

"No. I don't think you have."

"Correct. That's at least one sooth that you have said, feeble fairy. But then again, I did not exactly have the fairest of lots, now did I?" Mad Mikey said, expressing the smallest amount of increased emotion.

Most wouldn't have noticed it. Dawn did, but didn't say anything about that.

Instead she said, she asked, "What happened that day? When you were created?"

Mad Mikey was actually taken aback a bit by this question. Though it logically knew that it was a very standard place to start a discussion, it was still surprised. Before this point, the only being whom Mad Mikey talked about such things, or anything else, was with Dr. Johnson. And as Mad Mikey knew all too well, that was about a useful as talking to a brick wall. But there was something about Dawn that made Mad Mikey willing to be (mostly) open and honest with someone else for the first time ever in its existence. It felt in her that feeling which it had felt in the theater for the defeated demon on the screen. Mad Mikey, only right before it described its very origin to Dawn, realized what this formerly foreign feeling was…it was **sympathy. **

"They, those four bullies, had chased Mike into a men's room that was rarely used due to a notorious reputation for being the filthiest bathroom in the school. And if you know anything about the restrooms in public schools, those are not words said lightly."

This earned Mad Mikey a look of understanding and a bit more sympathy from Dawn. She, like all teenagers, knew about public school bathrooms and was repulsed by them.

"Those who assaulted Mike brought him there often, I guess it reminded them of home or maybe it was a better alterative? Either way, they christened those crappers, 'the Paint Shop'. But they had no interest in arts and crafts. No, there idea of painting was to paint Mike's body black and blue. And they never found "artistic inspiration" in short supply.

"I don't know why but for some reason they were even more aggressive than usual. Could it have been that their parents had a rough dance with a broken bottle maybe? Perhaps their favorite TV show ended with people eating onion rings or in a church? I can't say. There's so much I can't recall with certainty. But then again, let's see how many things you can remember before your own birth? What I can say is that so many emotions pulsated through Mike's mind as if they were venom. I couldn't tell you how many there were but one overpowered all others…**rage**.

"That was my genesis; I did not exist before that point. I was born in that disgusting bathroom. It was my womb. The blows from those bullies were my heartbeat and Mike's festering fury was the blood that ran through me. I would say what happened next but I'm sure the so-called good doctor as already told you what's in my file. Nice, eh?"

Dawn did not respond to that question. She was far too busy gazing into Mad Mikey's aura. It wasn't concealing it in the same way it had been in the lobby of the movie theater, at least mostly. But aside from one small portion of its aura connected to the memory of that day still being shrouded and unreadable, the Moonchild was quickly discovering so many new things about this shadow persona's past and emotional state. This new information just might be enough to stop this monster's rampage and not the only the rampage itself but also the desire for the rampage in the first place.

Mad Mikey's voice once again filled the silence left by Dawn's unresponsiveness. The voice heard was of that which was **destined to become a nightmare.**

"I was ignorant of it at the time but in retrospect after what would come next I realized that my birth was symbolic of the first two of many hard lessons I was made to learn." Mad Mikey said, its voice for the first time ever showing some display of genuine sadness to another even if Mad Mikey wasn't aware of it, "**It isn't what one wants in this world that one gets.**

"**And force and might make right."**

* * *

"That's right!" A voice exclaimed.

"Yeah, he just wants her! Not us!" Added another seemingly faceless voice.

"If she gives herself up, the rest of us can leave!" A third voice chimed in.

To the woe of herself and her friends, more and more voices began to offer similar accusations and demands for action against Zoey. Even though the bombs on the island had not been detonated, the group was falling victim to fatal fallout. But it wasn't a fallout of gunpowder or radioactivity, it was a fear with a fallout all its own.

The words of the countless voices were becoming more gruesomely bleak and ominous.

"I say we skin her alive and set her on fire!"

"Yeah, that will appease Mad Mikey!"

"Appease who?"

"Forget that! We need to bring her to Mad Mikey!"

With that, a tide began to slowly push itself towards the teenagers. It was a current more alarming than the strongest waves produced by the oceans of the Earth. Overwhelmed by genuine apprehension, hundreds of men and women with different personalities, different hopes and dreams ceased to exist. What now occupied their bodies was a master will for which no single member was directly responsible but all involved were guilty of continuing its existence. And this master will was one based on finding a scapegoat for their terror and crucifying it in an act of catharsis to purge themselves of their fears and appease their source so it will spare their lives.

As this stranger and savage tide approached, Cameron, firmly believing in the power of reason, stood up on a nearby table. He knew that the situation was a powder keg at was about to explode unless it was defused right now. But another voice stopped him.

"**STOP!"**

The hundreds of heads in the lobby all turned towards someone slowly walking their way into the lobby from the nearest medical room. This person was the first of the three knocked out by Mad Mikey to wake up. It was Dr. Johnson.

"Doctor, your awake!" Zoey and Cameron said at the same time.

The tall black psychiatrist nodded his head weakly as he slowly made his way to the space in between Zoey and the still forming mob. Once there, he spoke. His voice carried a kind of credibility to the panicked mass of people.

"I have heard Mad Mikey's message and all of you and quite frankly I am appalled! The very idea of offering Zoey as some kind of sacrificial lamb to that inhuman wolf, talking about a teenage girl as if she were a plague carrying mass murderer!

"Trust me when I say that even if you carried out your sad little plan, it would not work. If all of my years as a psychiatrist have taught me anything its that a mind as disturbed as Mad Mikey's will not stop killing so long as there are more people around for it to kill.

"Have you even paused to consider why you would wish death on a girl like Zoey? You want her dead for no other reason than to stop being afraid, for your own piece of mind.

"You are not some great wave with moral immunity for what you have planned! You are frightened individuals who are about to do something you will regret for the reminder of your lives because you gave into your desperate shortsighted yammering's! You can't hide from the horror that you wish to bring forth because you are part of a mob. And you can't wash the blood from your individual hands with the waters of the collective wave.

"So I ask you, are any of you willing to be a murderer personally? To be on the same level as that **thing **which dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty? What is your answer?"

The silence after this speech was so fine that a pin dropped would sound like a blast of thunder directly overhead. The faces that the teenagers and Dr. Johnson could see began to show uncertainty for the first since this crazy notion entered their collective head. Guilt and regret could be seen on many faces, almost pushed into the abyss by their own fear.

Maybe Dr. Johnson had gotten through to them? Maybe they wouldn't revert into a mob?

"**Everybody grab her! Break her legs!"**

The great wave of people terribly frightened rushed forward towards the teenagers, towards Zoey. Admit a storm of shouts and screams, the mob had completed its metamorphosis and now fully devolved into a nightmarish morass of sight and sound.

Most of Zoey's friends and Dr. Johnson tried to defend her against the panicked mass. Though some of them (Dr. Johnson, B, Brick) were either very large or strong, it was insufficient to turn this dangerous tide made of hundreds. The only friends of Zoey's not trying to defend her were Dawn, Dakota, and Mike. Dawn wasn't for the simple fact of her not being there. Dakota wasn't because she was struggling with all of her might to not let her anger at the mob and her guilt at not helping Zoey transform her into the Dakotazoid. And as for Mike, he not only wasn't there but also already lost control to a monster.

Given that reality, it didn't take long for the mob to reach their intended target. Though over the course of the show Zoey had proven to be a very capable young lady, her still reeling from all of this horrible information about Mike and her being physically overpowered by hundreds of people would make anyone seeing her for the first time unaware of that.

"No! Please! Get away from me! **Get away from me!**" Zoey said in a state of absolute fright as the members of the imposing mob began to reach out with their trembling hands.

The teenage redhead did her best to fight them off and held her ground for a bit. But it was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Fueled by anger and the desire for self-survival, Zoey only was able to keep up the fight for so long against so many.

As the claws of these creatures that were human not so long ago pulled and dragged on her, time seemed to have stopped in its footless tracks to Zoey. She saw so many faces in that swarm of the scared but no true definable features that could be called unique. The one feature that could be defined by her was a general gruesomeness on faces contorted into almost bestial expressions.

The bearers of those bestial expressions then proceeded to force Zoey's body on the floor. Finding herself pinned under the weight of scores of people, she looked up in horror. She saw a person approaching her with a long metal rob, the light glistening off of it's length. Seeing that shaft of sinister steel, Zoey remembered the comment about breaking her legs. Realizing what they had planned, Zoey cried and begged, pleaded for mercy, pity, and sympathy. Nothing she said could sway this mob from its purpose.

But then it was swayed. Not with words or reason…but a booming symphony of alien syllables and the sound of thunder!

As the syllables and the thunder filled the ears of those in the lobby, a painful beauty matched it. A beauty of erupted white light that seemed to erase the mob and its singular desire, everything went white! Admit the absolute white; there was pain, pain from currents of kilowatts that filled all of those trapped in the unexplained artificial radiance.

The rush of air from the blast tore the scores of panicked people from Zoey's body. Peering through the smoke, the Indie Chick was a sight that she couldn't have imagined. She saw Cameron; with his right arm morphed into metal with a palm pulsating with surging sparks of raw electrical power. For the first time ever, she saw **'Kimota'!**

It would have been understandable for this to have been the most shocking feature of Cameron being shown. But it wasn't. That honor belonged to the expression in his eyes. Instead of their normal kind sweetness, those black orbs under glass blazed with anger. But this anger layered for it was: anger at this mass of people for trying to bring one of his closest friends to her death, anger at this mass of people for being so consumed by fear that they were unable to be persuaded by anything less than a blast of artificial thunder, anger at himself for being forced to unleash this thunder on people like Zoey.

As the slightly smoking bodies of some of the mob's members hit the floor, the ones left standing suddenly stopped their assault and slowly backed away as if they were demons fleeing heaven's light. But if they were demons it wasn't because of the light's perfect beauty that they backed away. It was because of the **force and might** in the thunder.

Cameron stood there, with an expression on his face that was lacking when he used 'Kimota' on Lightning earlier that day. It was an expression both thankful and hateful towards the awful power unleashed.

Unleashed to help a **dearest and closet friend.**

* * *

For a few moments, there was only stillness and silence.

In that void, Dawn had been reading the contents of the newly unveiled aura. She found much that had troubled her, and much that she felt sorry for. Even only mere moments after having her mind rushed with the details of Mad Mikey's existence, there was so much there. Despite them not concealing anything, there were still massive swirling storm fronts within Mad Mikey. The difference was that they were storm fronts of pain.

Had Dawn been a lessor person or not fully committed to helping Mad Mikey, she would have "poofed" away right then and there. For the negative energy bombarding her recreated the feeling of being skewered with hot needles without the physical pain.

Dawn stood where she was…she could do no other! **She would do no other!**

And as she stood, Mad Mikey resumed talking, determined to tear Dawn apart.

"You looked to shocked to hear that, but you honestly shouldn't be. After all, force and might making right are the ultimate truths of the nature that you hold so sacred. After all, the spider kills the fly, the bird kills the spider, the wild cat kills the bird, the wolf kills the wild cat, the…well, you get the idea. It's one great chain of murder, all along the line. And yet none of the participants are deemed evil or profane and they are never stained with guilt or blame. Based on this most basic of natural truths, Nature itself must either be the progenitor of all sadism or a vague metaphysical force deprived of any moral concern. So, Nature itself, and by extension life itself, is **insane beyond all repair**, yes?"

The Moonchild didn't respond at first. Remembering what Mad Mikey did to the others in the lobby earlier that day when philosophical issues were brought it, Dawn had no intention of continuing this course. But that didn't make the hurt that she was feeling any less real or powerful. While the Moonchild had always known that Nature required many deaths from her animal brethren, she had never thought of it in those terms, that Nature could have blame for this process of its own design and might be deserving of it.

But Dawn could sense that there was more to this question than just criticizing Nature and hurting Dawn. There was a deeper issue being indirectly asked of her. Despite her hurt and anguish, Dawn was undaunted as she asked, "Why are you doing this? Why do you enjoy inflicting pain on others? Why do you relish in destroying that which is beautiful and full of life?"

Mad Mikey's response was as simple as it was revealing. It reflected in only a few words what it had been indirectly taught to believe and what it had now fully embraced.

"Why? Cause I'm evil!"

With that, Dawn understood what was really being asked of her at that moment. Did Dawn truly care about Mad Mikey or was she just saying that she did to stop it from hurting Nature and her human friends?

Dawn answered with what she thought to be the honest truth.

"No, I don't think you are. I do not think there truly is absolute evil. I think you are a lost soul who's been in pain and isolation for a very long time."

Mad Mikey, for the first time ever, looked genuinely speechless. Just as Dawn had before this point been unable to conceive of the scale of Mad Mikey's darkness, Mad Mikey had before this point been unable to conceive of the scale of Dawn's genuine sympathy. It was a sensation the likes of which Mad Mikey never could have imagined, another feeling sympathy for it. There was a time when Mad Mikey would have embraced Dawn and kissed her for being the first person to understand, to truly understand.

But those days were gone. **Gone forever.** The genie had been trapped in the lamp for too long. **Far too long. **

"Well…th-that's your own opinion, feeble fairy." Mad Mikey said with far less liveliness than it had ever said anything before. There was something in its voice, its normally base growl-type voice. It was something it didn't want to project but did. Was it sadness?

Whatever it was, it slowly became stronger in Mad Mikey's voice as it started recalling more about its past.

"How could I not be, in your words, **an absolute evil?** I was born in an environment of ignorance and fickle anger. My only purpose in life was to be a mindless guard dog that would break anyone who attacked **precious little Mike.** Having just been born, I couldn't have known notions like **innocence or guilt.** It never even occurred to me in my infancy that I was harming some innocent people. All I knew was that people were hurting Mike, not which ones were hurting him. And yet I suffered the majority of my existence because of what happened when I was first created, even whenI had no say in the matter!

"So, what was my reward for being a good little guard dog and mindlessly doing my purpose? Having only two companions in life! And, oh boy, did I hit the jackpot with those companions!

"One was that same little boy, that precious little Mike. I thought of him as a **dearest and closest friend**, but I didn't realize that he did not even know of my existence or that I was created in the same way he would create his feces, without thought or attention!

"The other, a doctor who saw me as a sentient plague that had to contained and caged like a feral tiger because my very existence was seen as an absolute threat. I eventually realized that they were not my friends, especially Johnson! I didn't understand it at the time but I could sense the not so good doctor's cold lies. No, I quickly knew exactly what he saw me as, hidden behind his façade of goodness and pretty words. **I was something inhuman and evil, something that had be either slain or repressed forever! **

"Eventually, I even lost those bastard friends, after those other and lessor personalities came into the picture. Once they did, I found myself even more isolated than before. Even more than I was when the only two beings I was ever in contact with either didn't know of my existence or secretly wanted it to end.

"Every moment from that point onward, I went from bad to worse. I was aware of this but powerless to stop it. How could I when it was all I knew? I knew it was wrong, but it was the only island I could stand on in a black sea of emptiness. And that island, which already began forming from thoughts and emotions from when I talked with Johnson, only grew as I came to develop the most horrible thing imaginable: **an idea.**"

* * *

For a few moments, there was only stillness and silence.

In wake of the superficial supernova, no body made any attempts to grab Zoey. Cameron didn't need to shout some dramatic action movie type proclamations. The crackling of the currents visible on the still drawn 'Kimota' was all of the dramatic proclamation that was needed. Power that words might have betrayed was strengthened by the bright yet dense scintillations of this white dwarf star called 'Kimota' commanded by the black short person called Cameron.

One of those watching the leftovers of this supernova saw something in its luminosity. The type of luminosity where everything, everything from gold to tree frogs to checkerboards, was formed. Everything that has ever been was formed with the raw elements produced in the horrific pressure and celestial furnaces of supernovas. For the first time ever, something new was to be added to that list that was thought of as infinite: **an idea.**

"That's it…**THAT'S IT!**" A young, rough voice exclaimed.

Everybody turned to face the source of the exclamation. They saw Jo, who started walking towards Cameron. But instead of the scowl seemingly craved onto her face, there was something that no body was sure they had ever seen on her face before…a smile.

"I can't believe it! You've got it! You brilliant, dim-witted, pathetic, amazing, little String Bean!" Jo said loudly in a tone that had never been heard from her before, happy and praising.

The smiling Take-No-Prisoners Jock-ette had remembered seeing Cameron use 'Kimota', this grounded man-made star, earlier that day. And that memory had guided her back to the memory of the finale. And that memory proved to be a gateway into the supernova. Under the horrific pressure of possible annihilation and the celestial furnace of 'Kimota', the raw elements for an idea came together.

But this idea hadn't been formed in anyone else's mind, not even Cameron's. Once Jo reached the confused wielder of 'Kimota', she asked, "Don't you get it, bubble boy?"

When Cameron shook his head, it was up to the unlikely person of Jo to be the revealer of this idea that just might save all of their skins.

"You are the most physically pathetic person I've ever met in my entire life. I bet pipe cleaners have more muscle than you do! And yet you were able to defeat Lightning, someone who's almost nothing but muscle, not just once but several times. You did so by building a mechanical suit of battle armor and this steel sleeve on your arm. And I'd wager dollars to donuts that you could combine these things to make a new suit, right?"

"Well…yeah. Of course I could." Cameron slowly admitted before reluctantly adding, "But at the finale I just barely beat Lightning and as we all saw, Mad Mikey whooped Lightning's backside with zero effort. How would it stand a chance against something like that?"

"When you fought Lightning, you made that suit by yourself, right?"

"Right." Cameron answered, still really confused.

"When you fought Lightning, you made that suit from some garbage, right?"

"Right." Cameron answered, less confused than before.

"When you fought Lightning, you had only fifteen minutes to make that suit, right?"

"Right." Cameron answered, almost on the verge of understanding.

"So, just imagine what kind of battle armor you could built now? You are surrounded by the most advanced technology in the world. You have not only B but also so many other eggheads to help you. And you have hours to make it and perfect it. You get it now, Wonder Nerd, right?"

After a few seconds of thinking this over, Cameron's eyes slowly grew as it dawned on him that Jo was correct. Suddenly bombarded by all of the possible implications of this revelation, Cameron only said (now with the benefits of understanding and agreement), "Right."

Once that single repeated word was said again with greater context, Cameron turned the dial of 'Kimota' and the metal plates were sent back into the unit from wince they came.

As the realization of this dawned on everyone else in the medical center's lobby, almost everyone reminded silent. But one voice of protest came bubbling from the sea of silence.

"You might be willing to put your life in the hands of the bubble boy babe-magnet…" Scott said with a spiteful sneer at remembering what happened in the Confessional, "…but I'm not! Even if this second suit might have a few more lights and buzzers, there's no way Cameron has the balls to do what needs to be done.

"And now that his glowing glove is gone, what's to stop us from storming Cameron first and then taking Zoey like we should be?" Scott finished with smugness in his voice.

Jo quickly reached Scott's location and now right in front of the devious ginger. With her face donning the vicious scowl that it was known for and violent violet eyes, Jo gave her answers with a tone as metallically menacing as 'Kimota'.

"What you want to do with your life doesn't matter anymore because **I'm** not willing to put my life in the hands of a panicked mob or a psychopath! And it's not going to be Cameron whose going to be facing Mad Mikey in this new battle armor, it's going to be **ME!"**

In a pause no more than three seconds long, Jo raised one of her feet in a swift strike. Her foot made cruel contact with its target…**Scott's kiwis!** Again Jo was that she was wishing that she were wearing steel-toed cleats.

But even though her shoes were lacking soles of steel, they made it far less likely for there to be a Scott Jr. Feeling a pain that Jo could only guess at, Scott for the third time today fell to the floor as a result of a strike from one of his former rivals in the season.

Now standing over Scott, who was curled up in the fetal position with his hands over his balls on the floor, Jo barked out her last order to confirm her de facto leadership.

"And if anyone else challenges this plan, so much as thinks about handing Zoey over, or leave the island, what I'll do to them will make what I just did to Scott look like a pillow fight! You'll be praying that was Mad Mikey you were facing instead of me! Understand?"

Everyone, in particular those older than Jo, looked around confused. Surely they wouldn't let some teenage girl with an ego problem boss them around, right?

But staring at the mass of people, a mass already scared out of their minds because of Mad Mikey, with a stern expression of unwavering authority, Jo barked even louder than the first time, **"Understand!"** To add just a pitch of persuasion to her case, she slammed her foot down on Scott's now slightly protected package a second time.

Appearing to have added just the right amount of oomph to Jo's statement, the majority of those present aside from the teenagers (in particular the males who were out of basic instinct covering their balls) responded with a loud, **"YES!" **(Scott responded with, "My **'BLEEPING'** balls!")

Had the situation not be so imposing in its lack of levity, someone would have surely commented on the farcical, ridiculous nature of it all. But being bossed around by a teenage girl was much more grounded in believability than the indescribable monster so contemptuous of their lives that was inside a teenage boy. No body said it or thought about it, but they all knew it.

"Good! Now…Cameron! You, B, and the rest of the brainics get to work! Everyone else will either help them in any way you can or stay out of their way! I want that battle armor ready in less than two hours! Now get going!" Jo demanded with a voice that was just as rough as before. Despite that, she was secretly thrilled at having unchallenged power.

Jo was so wrapped up in the rush of power that she almost didn't feel a finger tapping on her shoulder. Turning around, the Jock-ette saw Zoey standing right in front of her.

"Um, hi Jo. I just wanted to say…thank you so much! I really thought they were going to get me away! I never thought I'd ever be as scared when…" Zoey began to say before stopping. She didn't have to finish for Jo to know what she was about to add, when it seemed like Mad Mikey was actually going to kill her in the movie theater's lobby.

In contrast to the great emotion displayed on Zoey's face and in her voice, Jo merely replied in an almost indifferent tone, "Sure, don't mention it."

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Truth be told, if I thought giving her to Mad Mikey would actually work, I would have dragged Zoey to Mad Mikey myself by her pigtails. But I knew it wouldn't have worked." Jo said confidently before looking at the camera as if it was questioning her.

"I might not be a little "Smarty McEinstein" like Cameron or the doctor but even I can see that something as messed up as Mad Mikey has no intention of letting any of us go. In fact, it's probably only because Zoey is here with us that it doesn't just use that detonator to blow us all to Kingdom Come!" The Jock-ette said to the camera, not knowing that she stated the exact reason why Mad Mikey didn't just blow them all up.

"Some of you might be wondering why I'm going to be facing Mad Mikey? Quite frankly, I'm not willing to trust anyone else here to have the strength or guts needed. Besides, do you have any idea of the fame and fortune I'll get for defeating Mad Mikey? I may have lost the game but with the whole world watching and Cameron's smarts, I'll be able to make his million dollars look like chump change!"

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

With a battle planned formed, many of those in the lobby rushed out to different parts of the faculty. Cameron began to draw up the designs for this new battle armor. B and the personal not helping in the treatment of the injured were either listening to Cameron as he explained the designs or gathering up the raw materials needed to build it.

In the commotion, no body noticed that another had slipped away from the lobby in a manner every similar to Dawn. And to further the connection, this person had a plan which in some ways mirrored Dawn's but in other (more important) ways didn't.

No one noticed another person willingly slip from the lobby's metaphorical fingers. There was so much work to be done. They were remaking and fusing together Cameron's battle armor and 'Kimota', they were taking two things of partial relation and creating **something new.** It was to be something with the same purpose as the two originals but with an increase in power to take it to a level that was before unimaginable.

* * *

Dawn had remained as she was, in a dialogue with a demon. True, she hadn't contributed much to the discussion but that didn't matter. As Mad Mikey talked, whether it knew it or not, it was revealing more of itself to Dawn. The Saint of Camp Wawanakwa needed to discover a little bit more before she could hopefully negate this wolf's awful appetite. Once she knew fully what she was up against, Dawn would be able to prove that which she knew in the deepest parts of her heart to be true: **that kindness and care can heal any wound.**

The Saint inquired to the Wolf, "What were these many new ideas?"

As Dawn listened to Mad Mikey's words, she heard them and something else. The wolf's voice had changed yet again, this time more noticeably. While it was still raspy and growling, it now was also mournful and quiet.

"At first, **I truly** **loved Mike**. I saw myself as **a protector** to a person who was my brother. **Um…brother?** To think I once thought in words so mundane, so reassuringly normal…**so human.** Even though I knew I wasn't human but **something new **in the world of humans, **I still felt like one.**

"But then, as the years ticked by with the pace of a glacier with me in that crushing isolation spoon-fed by hypocrisy, my views began to gradually change. At first they changed to feelings of mere distrust, which then changed to concealed dislike, and then eventually devolved into hidden but adamant disgust. And while those feelings towards Mike were going on, I felt so many others thing. **Half-felt**, that is. After that, it was a simple hop and a skip for my feelings towards Mike to become the same radiant and volcanic hatred that I now came to feel for that entire system of sentient sewage that calls itself the human race."

Dawn knew that Mad Mikey wasn't lying. As it spoke, she could practically feel this psychological progression as if it were happen in present time. But that wasn't what alarmed Dawn most, what did was that this progression into increasing grotesquery felt as natural as the progression of water wearing down the rocks of a riverbed. This revelation was just as unsettling to Dawn as the other insights into Mad Mikey's mind. After all, if it felt as natural as running water, then the corruption of Mad Mikey was a natural process. **A natural process that could have happened to anyone in a similar situation.**

Ignoring her concerns about this, Dawn resumed her inquiry into Mad Mikey by asking, "What other things did you feel?"

Mad Mikey paused for a moment. It was just for a moment before it resumed speaking. But Dawn knew of its importance. This was the first time Mad Mikey ever said these things, to anyone. Just her listening was having an effect, however small, on Mad Mikey.

"When I was **"born"**, I could only feel whatever emotions Mike felt at the time of my creation. And those emotions were not ones that ensured I had a fair start in the race of life. They were anger, despair, confusion, sadness, and resentment. Combined with dark dreams of vengeance and sadistic glee, no doubt because he wanted the blows of the bullies to stop.

"No matter the reasoning, I was left as something not fully formed. While I could only feel those emotions, I knew of all the others. I knew of the other emotions of humanity but couldn't feel them. Despite me knowing that there are things out there like happiness and love, I've never experienced them in any way aside from knowing of them as vague concepts. That lack of experience slowly corroded me from within like acid from my nonexistent gut."

Mad Mikey had continued speaking without pause but something happened that was equal in significance to its pause moments before. The significant change this time was in Mad Mikey's voice as it spoke. For the first time ever, there was **no growl** twisted within its tone. Instead, there was **Mike's voice**, if it was in an **electronically distorted monotone.** This was another indictor of what Mad Mikey truly was, not human. As Mad Mikey spoke in this new voice reflecting what it actually was, an electromagnetic pattern, the new voice offered just as much to Dawn as the words actually being spoken.

"Now noting that, how vulnerable my delicate psyche was from the very start, let's add two more variables to the equation, shall we soothsayer? First, there was the doctor devoid of dick, who's every thought about me was a proclamation of how I was something not human and therefore unworthy in everyway except as something to be studied and hopefully destroyed hidden behind a false veneer of formality and pleasantries.

"Second, and perhaps more importantly, there was every one else on the whole bleeping Earth. Note how I said bleeping because it would be the same as if I said **'BLEEPING'**…but I digress." Mad Mikey said in its new monotone, not changing its speech pattern at the mentioning of the dreaded bleeping's of the censor. Its at first seemingly flat voice, now adding a almost metallic tinge to the words, gave its every word weight and menace. But now the weight was greater.

"You see, every emotion of mankind, every positive mood and every happy sensation, was known to me. I **unthinkingly knew** of every moment where the tiniest of pleasures is indulged in by the feeling of the hot wind on one's face, every over-excited squeal of joy from every child who gets a new toy, every tender moment between young lovers, every moment where the absolute love of a family enables one to overcome an otherwise unbeatable scenario. All of these delights and so many others were known to me. **Known, but not felt.** And as such, it was an omnipresent reminder of **what I could never experience and the ensuing hollowness** that could never stop in me." Being in such a mechanically sounding monotone, one would have imagined its voice being very robotic. But in every word, Mad Mikey's voice **wavered and waxed**, proving that the monotone was an unintentional deception.

"But that was not all. On the flip side of that coin, every negative mood and every dark sensation, was also known to me. Once again, **without intention or control**, I absorbed every instance of pain from a child scrapping a knee to a man slowly burning to death in a fire, every festering feeling of rage and bitterness because of selfish desire or prejudiced bias, every quiet and wallowing recognition that a life has not been what it could have been, every unfathomable grief at the loss of a closest friend or family of dearest blood. These and countless other woes in **humanity's infinite catalogue of horrors** have been my **only constant in life** aside from the **intolerable and unavoidable isolation** forced upon me." While dialed down greatly, Dawn could easily tell somewhere behind this placid façade there was **some bubbling and intense concerns.**

"For as long as I can remember, I have lived in a **never-ending nightmare.** I felt trapped in a dark forest, where any clear path was lost. In every direction, there was either emotions of joy that I couldn't feel or emotions of pain that I could. The only people who I knew of either didn't know of me despite creating me or secretly wanted to destroy me. And I was destined to endure this world of dusk for all time, I don't know if death's kingdom is one available to me. Any chance or hope of finding a **paradise was lost**." Its voice was so resonant, so beautiful, and so haunting. It was nothing like Dawn, or any human for that matter, ever heard before. And yet, for once, Mad Mikey was not trying to use this for some desired end. It just spoke **honestly** and was breaking Dawn's big heart.

"Finding only indifference and mankind's dark side, I retreated into the only sanctuary within my reach. I retreated into the only emotions I could feel, the only gifts I ever got. Within my inescapable inhuman Hell internally in Mike's mind, I had to create my own Hell, knowing that it would follow me always. **Better to suffer and reign in a Hell than just suffer in it."** Hidden beneath an icy visage that appeared to have crystallized into hard yet clear diamonds, so **much emotion and inner turmoil** was breaking to the surface with every single word said within that electronic monotone.

"And when my Hell and me were released, I would show the **wounds of deadly hate** that have pierced me so deep. **My only solace** over the years came from hoping for the chance to become **a furious dragon**, able to strike at my unknowing, frail tormentors. In the wake of my bitter memories, **my only memories**, I would bring worse deeds and worse suffering. Bringing infinite wrath and infinite despair, **I would make my Hell humanity's Hell. **Like me, they would know only ire, isolation, violence, despair, and nothingness." Dawn could truly feel the resignation and weariness in this being's voice. The anguish and pain in that voice somehow translated **beyond the medium of speech.**

"As these **darkest imaginings imaginable** began to control my mind, I slowly realized that I wasn't human. I never was. I never had any brothers or friends. There are none like me. In addition to the literal isolation I reached my maturity in, there was also the philosophical isolation of me being the only one of my kind. Hell, I'm a being with no kind at all. **I was forever abandoned and alone. There was never anything else."** Both in words and tone, Mad Mikey conveyed such an **emotionless eloquence.** It was so profound, and yet so was a testament to the pain tantalizing it from within without any reprieve.

For the first time in it's existence, Mad Mikey's eyes looked as if they were soaked in regret and longing. And that wasn't the only way they looked soaked. Even if it was only in a small amount, its eyes weren't just cold green lightflashing behind human eyes**.** There was some **wetness** there; there was some **humanness **there.

Speaking in a tone of vulnerability through its distorted nature and voice, the raven-haired demon asked the blond angel something it had occasionally pondered but never said aloud for lacking an audience, human or otherwise.

"What is it like? How does it…**How does it feel to happy? To be loved? To feel love?"**

Such notions, taken for granted by many, were as alien to this being as the rings of Saturn. **And just as unreachable.**

And in the wake of that unreachability there was something that was broken, ripped apart. For all of Mad Mikey's power and will, it was destined to end up with nothing but unresolved questions about its fate or even its existence. With nothing to slake them.

It was destined to **forever rush into the horror** that it now was and always would be.

* * *

"**But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most." –Mark Twain's The Autobiography of Mark Twain**

* * *

**Now then, for that one important thing…remember the following words from the second chapter describing the demon mask from Japanese Noh theater: ****"What compelled the former campers the most about this mask was the complexity displayed by the seemingly stoic and simple. Depending on the angle one was sitting at when they saw the mask and the position of it, the emotion shown varied. Some saw a cosmic clown, as the jaw became one of jest at the same time the eyeballs were ones enjoying some unheard joke. Others beheld a frightening fury as the demon's opened mouth displayed a demonic vengeance while the lowered brow gave the eyes a dangerous glinting. And yet still others looked on a tormented sorrow, as the mouth became a gateway to unrestrained grief and the eyes seemed on the verge of tears. All three realities were there and coexisted behind the superficially stone-faced Satan."**

**Well now it's time to reveal something that you might have already guessed re-reading that quote…the Noh mask was a metaphor for Mad Mikey! As chapters 3 through 5 have shown it is part comedian. As chapters 4 through 6 have shown it is part monster. And as this chapter has hopefully shown it is part tormented soul. Mad Mikey is all of these things at the same time! Hopefully. **

**I bring this up because one of my goals through this story has been to add things that would likely only be noticed after re-reading the story a second time. For the most part, I'm not going to acknowledge examples of it in the chapters (I'm more than willing to discuss this in private messages) but I will for the largest examples. **

**And just in case you're wondering, there is a reason why Mad Mikey has talked so much and it is a factor in Dawn's plan. You'll see why and how soon enough. **

**The next chapter will likely be finished within the next few weeks so keep an eye out for it. Next time we see if Dawn actually has her chance to stop to Mad Mikey! **

**So until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	7. So Farewell Hope

**Author's Notes: Here's chapter seven! This one is going to be short and sweet (for the most part that is). Just three things to say here. First, there will be a massive author's notes at the end of the chapter that will have a lot of very important information in it. Second, just like the last chapter, there will some words in bold (most often near the end of a section) and in the section that follows those words before in bold will be repeated with a new meaning (the words that start this chain off here are**** "forever rush into the horror")****. Third, as I'm sure this chapter's title will indicate, it will end in all sunshine and lollipops! Right? **

**Also, I have to make another quick shout-out. This time to a story called… "****Total Drama All-Stars!" by TheGunMaster! This is a odd choice for me because one of the main characters and couples are ones I really don't like (*cough* Scott and Dott *cough*) but this story is so good and has so many other things that I really do like that I can overlook that and recommend it. So just to be clear, read and review "Total Drama Island: A New Beginning" and then go read and review "Total Drama All-Stars!" right afterward! And know that "All-Stars!" is rated M so you need to search in the M-rated stories. **

**Oh, and there's one last important thing which can't wait until the endnotes! Shortly after posting the fifth chapter, I got a notice that it was somehow in violation of the terms of agreement on this site. I have looked it over and I for the life of me can't figure out what in it is violating the terms of agreement. Also, despite what others have told me, the way to edit a chapter doesn't seem to work. If anyone has any answers for either of these two points, please let me know, ok? **

**Having said that, here's the seventh chapter of "Mad Mikey": So Farewell Hope**

* * *

As remarkable as it was, a few in the Milton Medical Faculty were oblivious to the game- changing new developments. And those few were actually two, Lightning and Staci. Both teenagers were still out cold from Mad Mikey's first assault against humanity. The two teenagers were stable but also in different states. Whereas Satci was still as perfectly still as she would be sleeping, Lightning's body was starting to fidget as a result of dreaming.

_Lightning had found himself on the field of a massive football stadium, in complete football gear. Holding a football in his large black hands, the Athlete was running from one side of the field to the other. A rush of adrenaline was pulsating through his body has he dodged or overpowered any of the seemingly endless faceless members of the opposing team trying to stop him. _

_Finding that his unquestionably perfect skills made him the unstoppable juggernaut that he knew he was, Lightning turned his head to look at the sights around his awesomeness. _

_On both sides there were bleachers that went higher than Lightning could crane his neck to see. It didn't matter how high they went because Lightning saw that the bleachers on both sides were filled with people chanting his name and holding up banners praising him. Also on his sides were patches of lights bathing the all of the bright green grass in their absolute light to show the invincibility of the star quarterback Lightning. _

_Looking forward Lightning saw the scoreboard. Like all football scoreboards, it saw a massive black rectangle with the scores of the two teams in bright electronic numbers. But there were many differences between this scoreboard and most. Firstly, this scoreboard lacked displays for many details found on most football scoreboards: the down, the yardage of the line of scrimmage, the yards to go until the first down, the team with possession, the number of time-outs left for each team, and play clocks. Secondly, the two teams had the oddest names made of letters that were made out of electronic dots: __**"LIGHTNING"**__ and __**"NOT LIGHTNING"**__. And thirty, the scores for the two teams had an only slight difference in amount: __**"LIGHTNING" **__had a score of __**"1,142,857"**__ while __**"NOT LIGHTNING" **__had __**"0".**_

_While this would seem unrealistic to most, to Lightning it felt like the first time that the number on the scoreboard reflected his true level of ability compared to everyone else. _

_But then why was it taking him so long to reach the end zone? Despite his amazing abilities being rightly praised by the spectators, Lightning found that the final and most important touchdown was eluding him. Turning his head, Lightning saw that he was at the 50-yard line. He could not allow that! _

_Upping his drive to eleven, Lightning began to tear into the field's turf with his cleats. Feeling his years of physical training being tested, Lightning's legs began to burn more than they ever had before. The Athletic __Overachiever was displaying more will than he had at any point in his life. All of the sights around him were almost blurs. Even so, Lightning did notice something. He was still at the 50-yard line! _

_Even at his fullest sprint, the black superstar couldn't see to get any closer to the end zone! How could this be? It was impossible! Lightning could never fail when he put his all into it, and Lightning always put his all into it! _

_Lightning had been in his own Elysian Fields, in his own field of dreams. It was too bad that these plains of pleasure were about to become tundras of torment. That Lightning's field of dreams was about to become a field of nightmares. _

_Before Lightning could truly understand the situation, a charge of dark lightning from nowhere came crashing down right in front of him. Before the black bolt had blasted the blades of grass, Lightning saw something for a second. Within the harsh brightness of this thunderbolt, Lightning saw a human face, a familiar face. _

_As the __botanical blades began burning, the flames fluctuated furiously upward until they were at the same height as Lightning. Once it reached this level, the flames began to shift in shape. Admit the swift swaying and spewing smoke of the pyres, Lightning heard a voice, deep and shamed. _

"_Lightning."_

_The star of this strange and unnatural Superbowl was stunned. He knew that voice! _

"_Wha…It can't be?" Lightning said in uncharacteristic fright. _

_The formerly amorphous blazing became slightly less so as the fires formed a somewhat circular center. Within the soon to be sulphurous and tormenting flames, two spaces appeared. Resembling stars winking at the spheres __**trapped within their invulnerable influence**__, these spaces winked in nothing but the sternest of stares. _

_Then, around these sockets that were the sternest of eyes, the devil's eyes, a shape was solidified. It was the shape that Lightning had seen in the thunderbolt, a familiar human face. Though it was familiar, its features weren't. There were few features. Most of whatever wrinkles or warts or whatever other human imperfections could be found on a human face seemed to have been purged away by the fires that were alive and dangerous. Instead what was shown was a face as smooth and featureless as polished marble with an expression robbed of all subtlety aside for a sternness matching hardened steel. But what was this presence within the pyre, was it something more than fantasy? Either way, the presence within the pyre spoke for a second time with a deep and angered voice. _

"_Lightning. Lightning, you have failed me."_

_At last finding the voice within his normally boastful throat, Lightning could only weakly ask the specter, "D-Dad?"_

_The image of his own father ignored Lightning's question and spoke as if nothing had been said by saying, "You have disgraced the family name. You are a disgrace!"_

"_Lightning's no disgrace!" The jock said, his voice starting to waver slightly. _

"_But you are a disgrace, son! You have allowed the weak to overpower you! You have slacked in your efforts! You have failed to live up to my expectations!" The ghost of Lightning's father said in a manner even more threatening and demanding than before. _

"_H-how has Lightning fa-failed to live up to your expectations! Look at the scoreboard!"_

"_No, son. It is you who should look at the scoreboard! It shows the truth your trying to deny." _

_With that, the father of flames parted the pyre for a few moments. By doing so, the imagined ghost of Lightning's father allowed his son to see the truth with his own eyes. Was the imagined ghost of Lightning's father an honest ghost? _

_**Yes, it was!**_

_Lightning couldn't believe his black eyes. It had to be some kind of trick; it couldn't be real! The scoreboard was in most respects the same as before, it was a large black rectangle that only showed the scores for the teams called __**"LIGHTNING"**__ and __**"NOT LIGHTNING". **__But those oh so important details, the actual scores, had changed. Despite whatever numbers were pinned with electronic dots, the final score of this game read brightly for all to see: __**"LIGHTNING" **__had a score of __**"0"**__ while __**"NOT LIGHTNING" **__had a score of __**"2".**_

"_N-no…no! That's impossible! How did anyone score against Lightning!?" Lightning asked aloud in shock as the flames ceased to be parted and showed the father's face. _

"_Because of your carelessness, you allowed two people lessor than you to defeat you! Though you did make it to the final two, you failed to beat those weakenings Cameron and Mike. Failed to beat those weakenings Cameron and Mike. Failed. Failed! __**Failed!" **__The honest ghost of Lightning's still-living father said before focusing its already stern stare so that it seemed to be burning a hole into Lightning's very soul. _

_All of the swagger and toughness normally displayed in Lightning was gone. It could never survive that soul-scorching stare, __**not before and not now!**__ Dropping the football he had been holding this whole time, Lightning placed his hands over his head._

_He had no idea how or why it was happening but suddenly everything was spinning! The only thing that remained stable was the image of his father, cruel and displeased. On all sides the faceless members of the other team started to surround Lightning and tried to overpower him. Still gripping his head with one hand, Lightning was putting all of his effort into stopping his attackers. But it wasn't enough; they were swarming Lightning. _

"_Dad! Help!" The son desperately pleaded to the father in the flames. _

_All the help Lightning would receive was a word that was cast as a loud echo, __**"Failed!"**_

"_I'm tryin', Dad! Please don't judge me! Please!"_

"_**FAILED!"**_

_"Is this not good enough for you!?"_

"_**FAILED!"**_

_"I am good enough!"_

"_**FAILED!"**_

_"__I am good enough! Why don't you believe it!?__"_

"_**FAILED!"**_

_"I'll beat them! I'll beat Cameron, __**Mike!**__ I'll beat them all! I'll beat them all for you!" _

"_**FAILED!"**_

_As the shapes had at last overpowered him, Lightning could no longer see the shining shame cast from the flame of his father. Finding himself in darkness and powerlessness, Lightning could not accept this, would not accept this! _

"_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" **_

Shooting upward in his bed, Lightning awoke with the "No" being screamed on his opened lips as his eyes forced themselves open into perfect circles! Covered in sweat but refusing to give in to the feelings of fear, Lightning leapt from his bed and ran away from his fears and into the nearby lobby.

Looking around to find only the hazy confusion of people moving to and fro from many locations, Lightning went unnoticed as he approached a table not too far from his position. On this table there was a note, a note from Mad Mikey. Reading it, Lightning had discovered its location, the Haunted Forest.

Fueled by the knowledge that he wouldn't be taken a surprise a second time, Lightning rushed out of the faculty and into the forest to beat the first of the two who had beaten him. He **rushed into the horrors** of unquenchable drive! He rushed to beat Mad Mikey!

Lighting ran towards defeat as he ran to physically beat the **physically unbeatable being.**

* * *

Dawn stood there, analyzing an aura that felt **human but not human.** Despite having been talking with Mad Mikey for a little while now, the Moonchild still felt some unsettling emotions. There was an un-seeable beauty to this being, a perfect beauty to those like Dawn who could see it. All of Nature, in her infinite form and splendor, could not have imagined another life form such as this creature. It was a creature that not only was superior to humanity but was effortlessly so. It was a creature that would be able in time to usurp the power of Nature itself and smash its sacred laws into matchwood. While there was no physical body to Mad Mikey, it looked like a god, a god within a mortal's coils. And yet, for all of the awe that Dawn felt in this presence, it was surpassed by a greater fear. For if Mad Mikey was some matter of god, it was a bad god, a mad god. And what is a mortal to do when they not only encounter a god, but a god who is bad or mad?

A mortal could either run away in failure or remain in conviction. It is to Dawn's credit that despite knowing the power and intentions of Mad Mikey that she remained. There are a few things that it would be possible for somebody not in the situation to not understand. One example was the evidence of those powers and intentions. After all, the ground was littered with the bodies of beasts slain on this creature's sadistic whims. Given her great love of Nature, it was not shocking that Dawn was struggling to keep her composure. Seeing the carcasses of creatures as small as Laser Eyed Squirrels with their heads ripped off to ones as large as a three-eyed bear literally spilt in half with apparently one strike, Dawn could not help but imagine the fear and pain they felt as life was violently taken from them. Also, there was that bottomless black aura of Mad Mike and its many chasms so abysmal. For a human as spiritually sensitive as Dawn, just standing there was filling her mind with horrific visions of the shadows of things that have not happened, but could happen in the time after their dialogue…unless Dawn could stop this savage cycle.

And despite all of these pressures that most would never know, **Dawn remained!**

Mad Mikey noticed this too. Despite knowing that Dawn was feeling great fear, she not only stood her ground but actually spoke to it. She reminded, even as the Nature that she worshiped began her inevitable recoiling from the cosmic offense that was Mad Mikey. Most would have found the words dry up, turning to ash in their mouths. But Dawn didn't. For the first time ever, Mad Mikey was starting to respect and admire a human.

Part of the reason was that she saw that Mad Mikey, whatever its physical power, was not a god. And despite whatever anyone, including itself claimed, Mad Mikey was not a demon. At least not in the truest sense, instead it was a broken shell that was as broken as one could be. Never able to see the happiness and beauty of life, it was forever angry, forever sad. Being broken, it sought to rebuild itself in its pain but by doing so it had** internalized** both the doctor's **negative** **evaluations** of it and all of humanity's **dark emotions.** They, combined with the only other things to cling to, its power over and hatred of humanity, resulted in the monstrosity that called itself Mad Mikey.

But that wasn't the main reason that Dawn remained. For all of Mad Mikey's strength, will, and intelligence, when Dawn looked at it she saw something more confused and tormented than she could have imagined. She saw the most lost of lost souls. This was a being that had been forsaken by all. Dr. Johnson knew about it but **didn't like it**; Mike didn't know about it and **didn't like it**; the rest of the world didn't know about it and **didn't like it**; **nobody liked it.** Dawn had never met anyone quite so alienated before.

At last Dawn understood this creature's true motivation. Since the world denied it any happiness, it wanted everyone to feel its loss, and suffer while doing so. It would not go gently into that black night. No, it would make sure it had as many companions in misery as it could. But Dawn knew that such vengeance only darkens the soul and would not change how one felt inside, it would make the pain even worse that it already was.

What Dawn needed to do was pursued this creature to believe in the idealism that the power of love would result in the ultimate victory, **that love can wash away all sins and heal all wounds.**

Victory, the vindication of the truth, came from not inflicting suffering on the opponent but on one's self. The one engaging the opponent had to be prepared for physical and/or emotional harm. This was not the result of a desire for self-injury. Instead it was the necessary price for the largest love and the greatest charity, truly loving your opponent that's either a stranger or one who has done wrong to you. While Dawn's plan involved conscious suffering for her, it was not her meek submission to Mad Mikey born out of desperation or weakness. Instead, it was her putting her whole soul against the will of the demon. The spirit lied dormant in the demon because it knew nothing but pain and physical might. In order to free it, Dawn had to show it a higher power, the strength of the spirit. Dawn hoped to show this through a strength and courage that did not come from physical capacity or physical abilities but from indomitable will and mental resolve.

This will and resolve had to manifest themselves by Dawn withstanding the blows and curses of Mad Mikey in this spiritual chess match while not retreating from the game. Constant interaction between two contestants would result in their ultimate reconciliation. Harming or humiliating the opponent would do nothing but prolong the struggle. Rather than defeat Mad Mikey, Dawn's goal was to covert it, to return good for evil until the evildoer tired of evil out of respect for her sympathy for it and her commitment to her principles. The opponent had to be weaned from error by patience and sympathy. **Weaned, not crushed. (1) **

That is why Dawn largely just allowed Mad Mikey to dominate the discussion so far. By having the demon say out loud for the first time the depths of its torments and agonies, the angel slowly was showing the demon the full extent of how it couldn't remain this way. There was still more that had to be done but now the Moonchild knew that Mad Mikey would actually start listening instead of waiting to deny any claim made by her.

Now Dawn, the Saint of Nature, the sixteen-year-old girl, had finally found her time to talk. And when she spoke, Dawn spoke to a god with superiority over her in every possible way except morally. How fitting since it was on a matter of morality that she had been asked, the matters of happiness and love. With the discussion about to begin, Dawn hoped with all of her massively caring heart that she just might be able to stop the **physically unbeatable being. **

"Despite the absoluteness of happiness and love, my descriptions of those things would come off as hokey to you, Mikey. You'll have to see what they feel like for your self." Dawn said, realizing that a grand speech about love would fall on deaf, scornful ears.

"Bah. Have you been listening to a single word that I've said? I can't feel those things."

"I don't think that's true, despite you believing that. After all, you know they exist and you can feel all human emotions. Why would you only be able to feel the negative ones?"

"Because that's all I've ever known, for the entire course of my wrenched existence."

"Exactly. That's all that you've known, not all that there is. You simply haven't ever had the chance to feel them or have someone feel them for you."

"What makes you think I have any desire to feel them? Especially after what I've been through with humanity's other emotions? Can the fleeting aphrodisiacal gratifications of some tangled and neurotic human emotions heal the gaping void gripping me?"

"Yes. The emotions that you have been denied access to could, in time. But why do you call them aphrodisiacal? They don't have to involve physical attraction or sex."

"That was the strongest of those feelings to my knowledge. The closest things I've felt to those sentiments were not even mine to feel. They were Mike's attraction to another. I think you can guess whom."

"Zoey?"

"Yes, Zoey. While I was imprisoned in a realm of nerve and thought, I saw everything else through Mike's eye as if I were merely confined in a world of glass. I saw rays of the sun that directly but weakly fell onto his skin. I saw flowers sway back and forth in the gentle gusts of wind as if they were colorful ocean currents of pedals. I saw the happiness of those teenagers in this place, their friendships and pleasures. But all of that didn't equal when I saw Zoey. I saw something so wonderful that it was beyond what I could imagine. Again, while I was suffering in silent secrecy, Mike was enjoying the bounty of life. In this case the greatest of all of life's bounties that I've never experienced. Oh, how I would have endured my suffering for just one chance to have her, something so clean and pure. Maybe then it just wouldn't hurt as much anymore? Maybe…" Mad Mikey said before stopping itself. Again, this was the first time that Mad Mikey had ever said these things out loud and saying them out loud made it realize things that it never had before. In this case, that maybe it did have a desire for some of the "tangled and neurotic human emotions"?

Dawn realized in the silence that she just made another breakthrough. She was one step closer to ending this creature's turmoil. But Mad Mikey wasn't going to surrender in a struggle, even in one passive and word-based, without more of a fight.

"Even if we forget for a moment my furious anger and your oversaturated optimism, there is more at work here. For example, do you not see the futility of asking me to spare a world that I have never had any stake in, that's been the source of so much of my suffering all of these years? Am I supposed to just forget that and put on a smiling face?" Mad Mikey asked Dawn, its monotone breaking slightly to brief bits of growly anger.

"No, your not. I'm asking you to do the opposite. I don't want you to ignore what happened to you, Mikey. I want you to remember but forgive and move beyond it. I don't want you to show a smile, I want you to feel what will make you smile unintentionally."

Realizing that Dawn's answers were once again genuine, Mad Mikey changed the topic.

"That may be but there are other considerations to be, well, considered. If anything you should be thanking me Dawn. I may intend to destroy nature but I'd also be saving it. Saving it from the slow death of mankind's buzz saws and bullets, its oil pipelines and nuclear power plants. These extensions of humanity, which have brought generations of suffering upon the plants and animals you love, would end. Rather than destroying it while trying to pretend that I'm not, I'll be honest with nature as I'm destroying it."

"It doesn't matter even if that would be true. Whether it happens in a day by you or a thousand years by mankind, the children will be killing their mother who gave them life." Dawn said and when she did the Moonchild displayed a bit more of her inner turmoil.

"It depresses you, doesn't it Dawn? The feeling that no matter what you do this world and the life on it will wither and die because of that blight upon the land called man." Mad Mikey asked Dawn, noticing the slight difference in Dawn's demeanor. Like the past few questions asked by Mad Mikey, this one was not meant to hurt Dawn. It was an honest question fueled by nihilistic curiosity. The demon was starting to actually listen.

At this point, Dawn had two options, she could either try to lie and hide her deepest fear or she could be honest with Mad Mikey and be forced to face that fear at this most critical of moments. She chose the later, with great difficulty but determination.

"Yes, yes it does. But that doesn't mean that humanity's extinction would be better. Humans are a part Nature too, cut from the same cloth as the animals, plants, and rocks. If part of the cloth is torn, the whole thing is left asunder. Whether it has a higher purpose or not, we are all connected and need our siblings under the Great Earth Mother. Everything in Nature has value."

"What about me? As far as I know I was never held in Nature's amble and tangled bosom. I am too clean and devoid of a species to have been fostered in that cradle of filth. Does that rob me of the same intrinsic value you subscribe to the mosses and mankind? That's what you thought about me, yes? I was just something attached to Mike with no value in its own right, correct?"

Again, Dawn could either lie and not face an uncomfortable truth or be honest and face it. Once again, with the same determined difficulty, Dawn chose the later, the truth.

"I admit that when I learned about you from the doctor that I did believe that. But since then I have realized that I was wrong. You are a unique life form with every right to exist. The same as me or Mike or anything else."

Mad Mikey stood there for a moment. Knowing that Dawn had just answered two questions of great difficulty for her with complete honesty, the demon's perceptions of things were subverted for the first time ever. Was she of that same hypocritical species? Perhaps she was of another breed? Either way, Mad Mikey had one last all-important question, a question asked in the most vulnerable voice within its electronic monotone.

"Why? Why are you doing this, Dawn? Why do you have so much concern for me? All I have ever done is threatening and harm and kill. That was** my purpose** from the very beginning and that has remained. Why do you think there is more to me that just that?"

Now knowing Mad Mikey's side of things, it's history and trails; Dawn could at last make her full case. As Mad Mikey had spoken to her, the Moonchild had been forced to endure all manner of horrific visions and negative emotions. However, now Dawn could bring her side onto her opponent in the hopes of converting it to her pathway to peace.

"Like you, I can see into people and discover their feelings, even if they can't see them. When I look into your aura, I see your past and present. I see so much pain and suffering, most of it not deserved. I see you slowly losing yourself to the darkness, the despair. Even though I don't hear it with my ears, when you speak I hear the cries of a scared, lonely child. Despite their being no tears, you are **still crying.** It's agonizing to hear that.

"When I look into your aura, buried beneath all of the hurt and isolation, I see so much. You likely don't realize this but you have so much potential, for both you and humanity. For all of the power you possess, you can transcend that and reach an even greater power. A power not based in violence and pain but forgiveness and understanding. Knowing all of our emotions and trials in life as if they were your own, you are capable of forming a kinship with humanity that surpasses what humans can have with each other. You have all of the means to ascend to a higher level of existence, to lead humanity into a new era. Perhaps that was your **true purpose**, to bring humanity into the next phase of evolution? Maybe you were meant to be a savior of humanity who tragically became consumed by the core flaw of humanity, our petty but endless capacity for self-destruction? But even though that is what happened to you, unlike us you can rise above that in a total sense!

"I can't claim to know the will of the Great Earth Mother but even that's not the main reason for my concern for you, Mikey. As much as you might not believe it, my main motivation for doing this isn't to prove a philosophical point or save my friends, even with those being things I hope to do. No, I'm doing this because of **you being in pain.** I can't just act like nothing is happening when **someone** is in pain and I can help them. I refuse to give up on anyone, even the worst of us are **deserving of saving or love."**

Mad Mikey just stood there, silent. For the first time ever, it had an expression of awe. It knew that there were principles like the ones Dawn just espoused but to actually hear them for itself and know that the person saying them was one hundred percent sincere was a whole another experience all together. Especially for one mired in negativity.

"Is that true, Seraph? Is that really true?" Mad Mikey asked Dawn, its electronic monotone voice conveying a sense of disbelief. Maybe its sensory powers were become faulty in the same way its voice was?

"Yes, Mikey. It is true. I'm not trying to trick you to defeat you with force. I'm trying to reach out to you, to extend the peace and olive branch that has been so long overdo." Dawn said with complete conviction, hoping Mad Mikey would finally believe her.

Indeed, Mad Mikey was beginning to. Unlike some people who have experienced sympathy from others but experienced it so rarely that it doesn't matter, it was a totally new and overwhelming sensation for Mad Mikey. True to what Dawn had said, Mad Mikey had only been truly facing humanity for one side of the coin, the sacred side. Perhaps it was time to flip the coin to see if the other side was sacred as well or not?

"Congratulations Dawn. I am now, slightly but still sincerely, willing to consider the notion that humanity and life are more than horrors begging for their own destruction. Perhaps you are correct in that I have not been seeing life and humanity on its fullest terms." Mad Mikey admitted, to Dawn's unhidden happiness.

Sadly, there was more that it had to say.

"However, I require more. Words and sympathy, no matter how sincere, only prove so much. There must be more behind them for them to actually mean anything."

As convincing as this all was, Mad Mikey wasn't fully sold. Despite her sympathy being genuine and all compassing, the demon had learned from years of hardship to never trust a human at their word even with additional sensory abilities. More proof was needed.

"What else do you require?" Dawn asked, crestfallen about not have succeeded but hoping to not lose Mad Mikey after getting so close to reaching out to it and saving it.

"Right now, I've only gazed into the heart of darkness within humanity while knowing of the better angels of its nature only as vague concepts with no real bearing on my life. But the converse is equally true; you've only seen the ideals and noble features your species as you view the weakness and ignobility as nothing more than an unpleasant footnote that can be skipped. Do you not see, Dawn? Your definition of existence is just as narrow as mine; only it's on the opposite angle. Yet I'm to fully submit to just another half-truth?"

"So what can be done about that?" Dawn asked, truly confused about what could be done.

As Mad Mikey answered Dawn, it was actually almost glad that there might be a way.

"Before I fully commit to having my feet tread your path, I must see more than mere principles. I must know if the feelings you describe would truly cleanse me of my turmoil or if that is just you being overly hopeful. Also, I must know if you can maintain your resolve even when staring directly into the infinite chasm of mankind's malice. Doing so with words could take an eternity.

"Therefore, I require you to come here and access my spiritual energy through my Ajna. Just like you did with **Dakota earlier today.** As you know, this would **connect our energies** and allow each of us to travel through each other's auras at the same time. Only after I've seen the emotion miracles that you promise and you've seen the horrors I've lived with without filter or censor, will I forsake my course of slaughter and sadism.

"Of course, to do so you must be right in front of me, easily within striking distance. Consider it one last indicator of just how much my pain being lifted means to you before the final test, before the weighting of humanity's heart on the scale of truth. What do say Dawn? What is your choice?"

The Moonchild stood where she had been for a few moments. She needed that time to fully process the two incredible new developments. First, she had almost done it! Mad Mikey had actually admitted that it could be persuaded to abandon its horrible course. However, that would only happen after the second development, reading its Ajna. This frightened Dawn on multiple levels. Not only would it mean being physically vulnerable to Mad Mikey but it leave her very spirit at risk of incurable damage. Evaluating the factors at play, Dawn made her choice.

With feet that felt like lead, the Saint of Camp Wawanakwa began walking towards the Wolf.

**Footsteps were falling** on grass covered in red leopard spots made from the warm blood of beasts.

* * *

**Footsteps were falling** on man-made floor tiles within the walls of the Milton Medical Faculty.

There was a sight that should have been silly but had a quality of soberness to it. What was silly was that B, the only contestant who could much Owen in the girth department, was running as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. The sight of his rolls of fat jiggling and jumping up and down could have caused anyone to laugh or be disgusted. However, one feature kept this sight from becoming satiric, B's face. The normally relaxed and collected face of the big black teenager was full of concern.

And to think, it was a hunch that brought this burden onto B. While carrying some bits of machinery for the battle armor, the Silent Genius had noticed that somebody was leaving the Confessional. Normally he would have paid no mind to this but something about the person's face as they passed each other didn't feel right. B couldn't have said if this was because of some previous interaction with said person or if some of Dawn's powers of perception were wearing off on him but either way the black teenager couldn't let it go.

Traveling to a nearby room where all of the Confessional camera feed from this place was collected so it could be given to the transmission tower to be edited and shown to the fans, B began to navigate his way through the most recent of Confessional recordings. It didn't take the Tech-Savvy Mute by Choice long to find the most recent Confessional left by the person he saw in the hall.

After the Confessional recording had played, B felt a stronger tide of emotion than he had at any point his entire life. Within a space of time less than forty seconds B felt: shock, guilt, reluctant understanding, sadness, sympathy, compassion, and resolve to stop this.

It was this volatile cocktail of emotions that was having B ignore the searing pains in his legs as he ran as fast as he could. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stop this person alone. So he had to find those who could as quickly as possible!

Having seen future horrors and the pained innocence at their core, all that was compelling action was the hope that it wasn't too late. Hope that direct action could** prevent something terrible!**

* * *

Dawn had almost reached Mad Mikey, every step now felt like it was taken within a hurricane that dwarfed the size of the Earth itself. As Dawn had almost passed all of the bestial bodies around her, the Moonchild noticed two things about Mad Mikey. Firstly, almost as if in mockery of the claim that this demon was a god, it had developed a halo. Rather than a halo of light, it was a halo of flies, flies attracted to the death that followed it. Secondly, its eyes had changed slightly. While its eyes still had wheels of emerald flame, the coloring was different. Instead of the brightest green imaginable, this persona's eyes were a slightly darker green. Similar to its now electronic monotone voice, it seemed that this slight change of color was a physical indicator of Mad Mikey's emotional state.

This indication that Dawn actually was having an effect on Mad Mikey was part of what kept her going. The darker green eyes with some human wetness were her North Star, guiding Dawn through an invisible sea of nightmares and the dark side of the human psyche. As she was almost to Mad Mikey, Dawn could feel the dark waves rolling and swelling over her, their absolute blackness lacking the factional relief of white foam.

The growing darkness around Dawn, while damping her zeal and dimming her faith, did not assuage her from what she knew had to be done. It was the only way to save not just her friends and world but Mad Mikey itself from self-destruction. The Moonchild knew that she had to pursue this course in all weathers, no matter their fierceness. She would do everything in her power to **prevent something terrible! **

Dawn knew that it had to be her alone who engaged the demon in the match of will. The person who takes flight before any danger, real or imaginary, while hoping for someone else to destroy the being causing it is trapped in hatred and cowardice. To walk on this path one needed truth and fearlessness, those overcome with fear could never hope to disarm all hostility. The path that Dawn was walking on was far more difficult than walking on the edge of the sword. So much so that it was almost impossible for one who has a physical form. The only way a physical being could do so was with severe penance and knowledge. It required absolute concentration and ceaseless striving; the slightest inattention could not be indulged in. Every evil thought, by undue haste, by lying, by hatred, by deception, by wishing ill of anybody, would have weakened Dawn's efforts.

Those efforts, offering her emotional experiences to and subjecting herself to the existential gloom of Mad Mikey, would do two miraculous wonders. First and foremost, it would have Mad Mikey willingly forsake its hellish course by showing it the pure and undeniable power of love's relieving embrace. Second, it would show humanity that the way of peace was not just a fool's hope-filled dream. Dawn hoped it might show (if only to herself but hopefully others) the fact that the modern age didn't have to be the same as any other in human history, dominated by the rule and final supremacy of brute force.

With those concerns in mind, Dawn stopped right in front of Mike's body. While Mike was naturally taller than Dawn, the Moonchild still felt the dark being towering over her. Mad Mikey was smiling, both knowing the fear that Dawn felt being this close and respecting Dawn for actually doing it despite that fear. Though it was slightly trembling, Dawn raised one her arms and placed one of her slender pale hands on the being's Ajna.

At the moment of contact with Mike's mocha-colored forehead, Dawn had begun her journey through Mad Mikey's spiritual energy. After leaving the port of entry, the sixth of the seven chakras, the pale pilgrim began her trek into the creature's dark latitudes. Dawn was about to begin her trek among dark oddities, her experiences among the grim secret things.

_And the first of these oddities and secret things was…__**darkness.**__ But this wasn't the darkness that would be seen at night; even the darkest of nights have rays of the sun filtered through the moon. There were no such rays among this darkness. It was __marvelously dark; a featureless blackness that would drain all light and display a gross indifference affronting Heaven itself. _

_Before any sights could be seen, vocal reverberations were heard as they resounded through the black air without a star. There were languages diverse, horrible dialects, accents of anger, words of agony, voices high and hoarse, complaints and ululations loud, sighs and threats wept. They came together in overlapping disharmony to form a perpetual whirling tumult. It was the beginning to the same sudden flood of grotesque sensation that **Dawn** had felt earlier when Mad Mikey made its aura visible to her. _

_Having expected that this would happen, Dawn wasn't caught off guard by this flood of invisible, __dusky waves, __as she was earlier. Before the ghastly images could appear, the Moonchild used the same __techniques of the spirit and aura used before to part the sea of savage sound. She had successfully entered the aura proper through its vocal vestibule. _

_Dividing the absolute darkness, Dawn found…slightly less absolute darkness! Though there was no visible source of light, Dawn was still able to see a vast, cavernous forest. _

_Trees that were water-soaked and dull were seen all over. Their barks were coarse and rough, with patches upturned and the signs of decay present. The branches also were gnarled and entangled, some actually piercing the barks of their neighbors in nature. The same dim and unidentifiable source of light that made this darkness just barely above absolute shot faint rays of light upon the branches, which were then morphed by the branches into monstrosities made of shadow the likes of which Dawn never saw before. There were dead creatures there, their corpses reduced to pieces and chucks with teeth marks matching their own teeth, as if they had chewed on themselves until they had died. All of this was hard to see because vapors of green and grey were obscuring everything in this hemisphere of darkness. Beneath these vapors there were many moist and filthy things ranging from pebbles to fallen tree trunks (which oddly looked burnt). Between the decaying trees, the creature carcasses, and the omnipresent vapors this place was a forest crowded thickly with old ghosts and all of there suffered, random injustices. The overall effect was dense and darksome atmosphere that was eternal, heavy, and cold. _

_But despite the largely total absence of light and depressing appearance, being in this forest did not feel like Dawn had expected. Reflecting on how Mad Mikey's aura felt while talking to it, Dawn was dreading great horrors. But in both the plants and air around her, there was nothing extraordinarily grim or pain-filled. While there were still negative feelings there, they were far than she had dreaded and they were experienced with the same almost intangible numbness as other auras. Traveling in between the unsmooth trunks of the trees, the Moonchild began her expedition into with a renewed sense of hope that this wouldn't be as bad as she thought it would be. _

_This notion of total optimism was to be disproven within a few moments as the thick mists throwing themselves upon the forest floor quickly raised themselves until they were at Dawn's eye level. Once there, their grey shroud became a red flash of phosphorus fire. As Dawn began to feel water at her feet, she realized that this was the means by which she would be sent from one moment of the aura to another. These phosphorus mists would be her means of transport through the dismal region of the bodiless being. _

**The mists churning in grey flashed fiery red! A barrier to the bleak was broken!**

* * *

_But Dawn wasn't the only one experiencing the vestibule to a new domain. Unlike earlier with Dakota (and all other people for that matter), this connecting of spiritual energies wasn't just Dawn numbly feeling another person's aura to guide them. This time, the other party was also traveling through hers too. Both Dawn and Mad Mikey were in their own aura and the other being's aura simultaneously, being in a shared fused realm despite their surroundings being totally different from the others' and alien to each. _

_And for __**Mad Mikey**__, the most alien of realms was the most natural to humanity. It was a realm bathed in the bright rays of the sun. Having lived for its entire existence in a cold, imagined darkness, the notion of such an undiluted source of warmth was awe-inspiring. _

_Unlike Dawn, Mad Mikey encountered no barrier to the aura and therefore it found itself in a brave, new world. While it was a forest, it couldn't have been more different than the one it came from. Whereas that forest saturated all with wet and unmovable despair, this one breathed such energy and smooth drive into every presence within its wooden world. _

_There were many other differences between the two worlds of wood and __wordlessness. For every example around it, Mad Mikey remembered with hatred clarity that its place of origin was the opposite. This forest was a heavenly dwelling. The trunks of the trees were smooth and healthy, reflecting stately trees that remained in flourishing old age while being maintained in a beauty that would never fade. The leaves and grass in color and lushness excelled in matching emeralds because they were full of the life brought to them by the sun's rays. There was no dirt above the rolling carpet of grass, ensuring that none of the other surfaces of this pleasant place were covered in their grainy filth. Many fresh rivers and delightful brooks slowly slid through this place with a clear surface not concerned with imperfections. The healthy air being breathed had a plethora of birds delightful to both the ear and the eye, solemnizing daily their sweet voices to have a perfect music echo everywhere else. From instinctual but still enjoyed functions, creatures of countless kinds could be seen and heard along the forest floor. _

_This place was a realm the likes of which Mad Mikey couldn't have imagined. Certainly, nothing anything less than a goddess of nature could have imagined a place like this, a place of heaping pleasures that was so perfect a model of the heavenly dwellings. However, it wasn't the work of a goddess. It was the work of a sixteen-year-old girl. This place was Dawn's aura, her feelings towards and her vision of the world. _

_As Mad Mikey walked through this lady adolescent's locus amonenus, her pleasant place, it felt and tasted so many things that most would consider trivial. There was peace, calm, tranquility, relaxation, and openness, among many others. But despite how new and wonderful these new emotions being experienced were they were lacking somehow. Regardless the palpable and radiant positive emotion in this place, Mad Mikey didn't feel anything outside of some superficial soothing. While still walking, Mad Mikey felt feelings conflicted between relief and disappointment that there was nothing more to this place, that the positive emotions of humanity had no deeper power aside from the simple. _

_This notion of partial pessimism was to be disproven within a few moments as the ground beneath its feet suddenly began to break and leak. Looking down, the persona saw that some of the water having the __semblance of clearest glass was forcing its way to the grass. Within a few moments, the demon's imagined feet felt only water, like there was no grass. __Before Mad Mikey could react, a pulsating pillar of water blasted into way to this dark visitor to this adolescent Arcadia. As Mad Mikey began to feel grass return to its proper place under Mike's imagined feet, it realized that this was the means by which it would be sent from one moment of the aura to another. Pulsating pillars of water would be its means of transport through Dawn's place of perfect positivity and positive perfection. _

**The water became a pillar! New knowledge soaked and clung to the visitor's form!**

* * *

_**Dawn **__had felt the water rise from her feet to her ankles as the red mists parted from her. It soaked and clung to her clothes and skin, leaving her cold. This shocked the Moonchild because never in her time reading auras had Dawn felt a physical sensation like cold, wet skin. As she speculated that this was because of the unique power of Mad Mikey's aura, Dawn looked at her new surroundings and started to slowly venture into them. _

_This new location, a swampland, had the same basic atmosphere of woe as the forest. But there were differences aside from the waters ebbing at Dawn's knees. While there were many trees, they were far smaller and thinner than the imposing barks seen before. There was almost no green, not even decaying green, on any of their branches. The only constant green was found in reeds that despite looking sickly were taller than Dawn. The grey fog, already abundant in the forest, was greatly increased in this callous quagmire. The water had a heavy soberness that greatly surpassed its dark greyish-blue coloring. And feeling wasn't the only way that this swamp was heavy; it had a thick gelatinous top layer that seems like a living, malevolent skin. Hidden underneath this thick membrane and the dark-tinted waters, a sea of all discernment turned and kicked at Dawn's legs. As the Aura Whisperer attempted to clamber through this murky bog's caul, there was the feeling that with every step Dawn was getting nowhere. It was as if all effort was surrendered to the swamp, even though the Moonchild was clearly moving through it. _

_After walking through the waters and reeds a bit, Dawn began to hear something, a series of loud wet __**'plops'**__. Picking up her pace, the Moonchild soon reacted the source of these sounds of suction. She found a child, no more than eight years old, trying to run through the gelatinous and almost quicksand-like membrane of the swamp. As the child ran closer to Dawn, she noticed its physical features, mainly its bright and glowing green eyes. This child, with a look of pure terror and agony on its face, was holding its head tightly as it ran. Seeming to not noticing Dawn, the child with green eyes suddenly stopped running. Holding its head even tighter as its body shook, the child dropped to its hands and knees. _

_On all fours in the thick murky water, the child, clearly a young Mad Mikey, began crying. At least that was the action that should have been happening. It was so overcome with emotion that the top of its black spiky hair was unknowingly dipped into the perse water. Overwhelmed by something that could only be guessed at, the young Mad Mikey began sadly shouting at the unforgiving swamp, its voice matching that of one in the most complete and inescapable of sorrows. It was so because for all of the crying, there was no crying and the grief that found a barrier in __**eyes that couldn't shed tears**__ turned itself inward and increased the child's anguish. __**This was the crying of a demon**__, without the small solace of tears. In it, in this demonic crying without evil intent, with emerald eyes that were matching rigid crystal visors that held on to despair, Mad Mikey spoke openly. _

"_Mike...? Mike...! Mike... Where are you?! __**Where are you?!**_ _Mike, why have you abandoned me? Please Mike, __**I'm scared!**__ I saved you…they wouldn't have stopped otherwise._ _Mike, I helped you, now help me! I don't know what's happening, I'm so confused!? __It hurts! It hurts! Mike, it hurts!_ _It hurts... It- it- it hurts just to think and breathe._ _I don't know what this is. Am I dying? Can I die?_ _If I can then please let me die!_ _They won't stop!_ _I just want the voices to stop... Just want the voices to stop; I just want __**the voices to stop!**_ _Why, Mike, why?__ Why are you doing this? Why isn't anyone here? __**Why am I alone?"**_

_Almost weeping at this sight, at seeing a confused child in so much pain and sadness, Dawn started to walk towards the young Mad Mikey. Maybe if she could comfort this being from the past, its counterpart in the present would feel the effects? But Dawn only got a few steps before she too began to hear something. She heard a low whooshing and crackling buzzing sound, similar one could guess to the noises made by the billions upon billions of desert locusts that were released onto the crops of Egypt by an angry God. And as that insect-like humming grew in beating volume, other sounds began to be heard. Similar to the pests unchained as a pestilence for old injustices even on those not guilty of them, vibrant voices like spurred locust wings were a forerunner to an inhuman wrath. They were a forerunner to other voices, voices with human words and omnipotent tones. _**(2) **

"_**NO! Ye shall find only darkness!**_**"**

"_**MY GOD! I'M ON FIRE!"**_

**"**_**There's semen on everything! 'EVERYTHING!**_**"**

"_**That was the messiest one yet. It normally only takes a single blow."**_

"_**Yes! I am a woman and I killed those guys."**_

"_**I didn't see strangling her as something wrong."**_

"_**HELL AIN'T 'BLEEP'…now life…now that's a piece of 'BLEEP', when you look at it!"**_

_As these voices whose volume and content could hardly be believed hit Dawn, the true nightmare, the true gazing into the abyss began! As the voices started, all other sound collapsed into a dull, hollow echo, an echo that duplicated the deafness one might experience after mortar shells explode around them. Human voices of all types and pitches were heard without filter, often overlapping with each other. _

"_**Mommy! Where are you? I'm scared! MOMMY!"**_

**"**_**'Oh my mommy, my mommy, where's she gone?' Bah! You'll be with her soon enough, brat!**_**"**

"_**I may have strangled with my own hands about 125 men."**_

"_**The law must always appear respectable, especially when it's being broken!"**_

"_**Remorse, what for? I didn't even know them!"**_

**"**_**No second chance for the weak! NONE!**_**"**

"_**My God! They would scream so loud I couldn't hear myself think!"**_

_Dawn had since collapsed into the swamp water and began holding her head, which felt like it might explode at any moment. __The nightmare intensifies after Dawn was deafened. The sound became muted, and there is a faint ringing, which made the reality of sound frustratingly out of reach for her. __Even untrammelled words without restrictions in either space or imagination could not convey all of the amorphous agonies in this place. The speech and memory of mankind fell short in their wake; there was no room within humanity to comprehend it in full. To try and convey the pain that Dawn was now experiencing with eloquent words and literary techniques of description would show them to be sorry and farcical nonsense. _

"_**I'm- I'm covered in his filth! DISGUSTING!**_**"**

"_**We only fight when we have just cause- such as our enemy is weaker than us, we want something of theirs, or they differ from us in any way!"**_

"_**I'll eat his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti!"**_

"_**THAT IS MY WHORE! There are many like her but that one is mine! I promise I will not hurt or harm you…I just want you to return my whore. Do you have any idea how long it takes to find a whore you really like!? SHE'S A GOOD WHORE AND I LIKE HER!"**_

"_**The city was scared 'BLEEP'-less. They needed an arrest. They murdered a scapegoat."**_

"_**All I wanted was to get inside them…but I killed them because they cried."**_

"_**A life without murder is like life without food."**_

"_**I looked for my boy for nine months…all we got was a handful of bones."**_

"_**None of us are perfect. So how can one judge another?"**_

_Dawn had sadly realized what was happening, she was discovering the full scale of humanity's capacity for cruelty. She was experiencing every malice-filled thought and every vague vulgarity. The Moonchild was trying her best to withstand it but she found herself unable to do anything except try to ignore the unfathomable pain in her head. _

"_**When is a law NOT a law...WHEN I SAY IT IS**__**N'**_T!"

"_**I abandoned my child! I abandoned my child! I ABANDONED MY BOY!"**_

"_**It's done! I did the deed! There…HE'S DEAD! Now just shut up and leave me alone!"**_

"_**The next thing I knew, she was smothered and I liked it."**_

"_**I'm so horny…let's do another one!"**_

"_**I am deeply offended by your calling me a women hater. I am not. I love women… when they're dead."**_

"_**Anything I ever did in my life, I felt justified doing. I never abused anybody in my life. If people abuse me and I abuse them back-that ain't abuse."**_

"_**I swore an oath to do no harm, and I... mostly meant it.**_**"**

_The maddening ringing in her ears made sound drift in and out without pattern. When sound did come through, it was muffled and made both ambient and menacing by strange blends of wraithlike sounds. Some of the dialogue lacked specific meaning or even concrete sentences but what replaced those things were subhuman growling, guttural wailings, and other spine-chilling sounds. _

"_**Look bitch, I don't care about you! I don't care if you are going to have a baby! You had better be ready. You're going to die and I don't feel anything about it!"**_

"_**Man will never be free until the last aristocrat is strangled with the entrails of the last priest!"**_

"_**Please could you wait a moment? I don't want to die with my shoes on."**_

"_**If you work for a living…then why do you kill yourself working?"**_

"_**I loved all that blood. It's all I ever wanted."**_

"_**How could they have found me guilty of murder if the body couldn't be found?"**_

"_**Weak people beaten by the strong. That's life, isn't?"**_

_This was part of the eerie distance caused by shell-shocked ears. But that wasn't the only distancing at work, and it wasn't the cruelest. Intertwined with the negative thoughts and emotions, there were other kinds…sort of. _

"_**I…do love…very…"**_

"…_**are…mother…have…had…"**_

"…_**love…worth more…all…in…"**_

"_**Living…beautiful…wonderful…me…really…"**_

"_**Thank…new toy…"**_

"_**Our…day…happiest…my..."**_

_Again forming realizations in agony, Dawn realized that these were the positive emotions of humanity. However, they were muddled and broken up. They added another layer of confusion and turmoil to this already chaotic electronic heartbeat of amped up despair. _

"_**am… love…and… like…spend the…with..."**_

"_**Since he didn't see the situation clearly, I helped him out. I took out those clearly defective eyes of his. There are now in my hand."**_

"_**Why…we…along…"**_

"_**Grace sat in my lap and kissed me. I made up my mind to eat her."**_

"_**I didn't give a damn who I was with…we're all dying sooner or later. So why not speed up the process a little?"**_

"_**I cannot understand honest men. They lead desperate lives full of boredom."**_

"_**Daddy, why did you do that to Mommy?"**_

"_**all…be loving…other…the…a better…"**_

"_**dog and cat…so…and…I…loving…."**_

"_**Universal salvation is a lie, is it not? It is only a lie. I would like to believe that all people will be saved but I know that is not the truth. They won't be saved…they won't. No they won't!"**_

_Despite all of her genuine belief in the goodness of humanity and her years of training in the many different techniques of the aura, Dawn found herself powerless in this storm. With the voices still going strong and the Moonchild still on the ground in pain, the __grey shroud became a red flash of phosphorus fire._

**The mists churning in grey flashed fiery red! A barrier to the bleak was broken!**

* * *

_The barrier of water that had surrounded __**Mad Mikey**__ ceased its unnaturally powered pumping. Finding grass beneath its feet and the same place of natural beauty around it, Mad Mikey ventured into the woods. Unlike Dawn, Mad Mikey had found no great change in location, the woods it was in now looked very similar to the previous one. _

_Not too far into its journey, Mad Mikey found something. It saw of the form of a child, a female child likely no more than eight years old that was in a small clearing. She was sitting on the on ground with her legs folded Indian style and her arms at her waist reaching outward while her eyes were closed. Appearing to not have noticed Mad Mikey, it took note of her details. Her skin was an irony pale and her hair was a long, light blonde. Beneath a dark green sweater it could see at her neck proof of a light blue dress shirt. The entire lengths of her legs were covered in purple tights while a black skirt was over the tights that didn't reach her knees. With the last feature of note being small black shoes on small feet, Mad Mikey quickly deduced that this was a younger version of Dawn. After wondering to itself if she has always worn the same clothes since birth, Mad Mikey began watching her from the woods. _

_She seemed to have been meditating, trying to access some higher plain of knowledge. Despite only being eight years old, the younger Dawn looked very focused on this. However, something broke her concentration, with a meow. Opening her grayish-blue eyes and looking to her side, she noticed a small orange cat. It was staring up at her with wide green eyes as it meowed once again, clearly wanting the young girl's attention. _

_With a smile on her face despite the interruption, the younger Dawn said, "Hello Blondie. Would you like me to pet you?"_

_Taken another meow by the cat as a yes, Dawn began to pet the lonely feline. After a minute of this and purring, the cat's eyes changed to the look they would have before going to sleep. The child thought this would be good for her because it would mean getting back to her meditation. That notion was proven wrong when the orange cat climbed on one of the younger Dawn's legs and then curled itself up into a ball in the space in between her legs. Shocked by this course of action of the cat, Dawn was able to get up when she noticed the adorable sight of the cat's face being half-hidden by her leg and its little front paws in the air. Looking at the little ball of fur, Dawn decided to stay where she was. _

_Though it made it harder to concentrate, Dawn kept the cat on her lap as she tried to resume her meditation. But before she really could enter the same realm of focus, the young Moonchild felt a large furry body bump against her side. Opening her eyes again, Dawn saw that the culprit this time was a young black Labrador retriever. _

_Again slightly smiling despite wanting to mediate, Dawn said to the dark furred dog, "You too Raven? Between you and Blondie, I'm won't be meditating today, will I?" _**(3) **

_An exultant bark from the black dog named after the black bird confirmed this as it sat down right next to Dawn. Sighing at the loss of her mediation, the young Aura-Whisperer began to pet both the cat and dog at the same time. Despite not being able to get closer to a higher plain of knowledge, this was not a massive burden for the eight-year-old Dawn. As she began petting the cat in her lap and the dog at her side with one hand each, the being watching this, who technically was also eight years old, began feeling new things. _

_Similar to Dawn in its own aura, Mad Mikey directly felt whatever emotions the younger Dawn was as if they were its own. Mad Mikey had of course known that humans often get great enjoyment and positive feelings from pets but it only knew of this fact and these emotions as if they were a cold statistic because it could never feel the full emotion there. But now, it was practically swimming in the affection that these animals were bathing Dawn in. It felt like nothing Mad Mikey ever experienced, it never even imagined, never dared to dream, that such positive feeling could truly exist. As it watched the child bonding with the animals, the demon began thinking some very un-demon like thoughts. Again, the effect of this simple scene might be lost on a human hardened by cruelty but with it being Mad Mikey's first experience with true felt positive emotion, it had the same power as its introduction to the Hell that was mankind's dark side. But it was a dark side that maybe, just maybe, wasn't as all consuming as it had been taught to think by its life?_

_While it was quiet and gradual, this revelation was having an effect on Mad Mikey. Maybe there was joys and happiness to be had? Maybe these things weren't out of its reach after all? _

_As the grass beneath its feet began to get soggy once again, Mad Mikey noticed something; something that it truly believed it would never notice…__**it was smiling.**__ When the wall of water returned in full, it covered the first true smile that had graced Mad Mikey without the dark dreams of sadism or vengeance. Mad Mikey's first happy smile. _

**The water became a pillar! New knowledge soaked and clung to the visitor's form!**

* * *

_When the mists were parted, __**Dawn**__ had found herself back in the damp and dark forest. Though Dawn had traveled to several locations since leaving the swamp, it didn't matter. No matter the change in location or the smells and sights that were profoundly blithe and unsettling, it was the omnipresent sonic distortion, that horrible humming pregnant with human tones which brought a type of pain all there own that brought the greatest despair. This constant accompanying hum, in some distant way reminiscent of the sound of the flies that hovered around Mad Mikey's head before entering its aura, was so otherworldly that it got inside of Dawn's body and made her feel unrelenting tension and fear. That was because within this music of trapped flies there was a mocking, whispered laughter. Within the buzzing and laughter was the worst of humanity's dark potential and reality. _

"_**It is better to torture nine innocent than allow one guilty to go unpunished!"**_

"_**am…happy…fixed…crash."**_

"_**I am the only successful member of my family and I got that way by robbing the dead and dying."**_

"_**I'M NOT A BAD PERSON! I'm just a person who did bad things. IT'S NOT THE SAME!"**_

"…_**love…you…white hot…a thousand…"**_

"_**Between two worlds, one dead…the other powerless to be born, with nowhere to put my head."**_

_The Moonchild was as she had been in the swamp, taken aback by a sheer intensity and unflinching visceral horror that were indescribable. A stillborn scream curdled in her throat and congealed into a lump, a nonexistent lump that still was blocking oxygen as if it did exist. This place had a sort of unreal realism that got to events terrible beyond comprehension; it was a phantasmagoria that was grounded in appalling reality. It was a reality that Dawn couldn't hide from or deny, ever again. Whether by closing her eyes or covering her ears; all attempts at ignorance were pointless now because the dark fever-tides of emotion had gotten past her vision and hearing. They had penetrated her very consciousness and threatened to always be with her forever more. The horror that she was experiencing, in excruciatingly vivid detail, would be etched for an indefinite amount of time into her memory. She would from this day forward be an intermediary between her world and this hallucinatory nether world of blood and mud and escalating madness. _

"_**Just keep up our hatred for me. I know it keeps up their morale. They can only feel righteous by pointing their fingers at guys like me. Without me they wouldn't know right from wrong!"**_

"_**If I didn't kill one or two people now and then, they'd forget who I am."**_

"_**Always…bright side… just…whistle." **_

"…_**way of…and…always prevails." **_

"_**If people are told 1,000 poor people are dead…they say 'that's sad' before not giving it a second thought. But when told one little celebrity dies, it's all everyone can talk about for days!" **_

"_**They told us over and over again that they were something lower then people and must be wiped out. To me they look like ordinary women and children. I didn't like what we did…I didn't like it one little bit. But I didn't do anything to stop it."**_

_As another sound, the sound of frightened footsteps falling came to her ears Dawn found herself actually thankful for it might drown out the despair and pain inspiring voices. Running through this dark domain without __interruption or refrain was a slightly older looking Mad Mikey. It was running from a place that no one else could see or hear, a site of the unfathomable known simply as a child's fear. As it got near, Dawn saw the reason for Mad Mikey's fear. Those same horrible human voices commented throughout it all. _

_Beneath the crawling fog of the forest floor, a putrid process already begun was seen. It brought with it a powerful musk, murky green and pungent, that filled the damp air. _

_From both within and without, the features of the forest were germinating, sprouting up in all places and all forms on the young Mad Mikey with the vigor of a healthy sapling. _

_A wooden skin was cruelly crawling along its body with the intention of replacing the child's mocha skin with a covering of soggy and splintered green. Every second of this skin extending its reach made Mad Mikey's young body more heavy and mired by moments becoming slower as they were also more sullen and solemn. One of its arms had become a branch with twigs and thorny vines moving outward from it. The other arm wasn't that far behind, the fingers could be seen transforming into leafed twigs. Gnarled pieces of wood and tattered mantles of moss flailed unevenly along its flanks. Swirling within the dirty yet bright green were streaks of mold forming a dull grey rash. All of the decay rose and fell on its two legs, creating a moving fabric of green and grey. Though Mad Mikey had no bones, they were forming in a creaking skeleton of tortured branch and root. In fact, some of those tortured roots had forced there way through Mikey's feet and now dug hungrily into the sodden soil. Mad Mikey was pinned down and trapped. _

_Bleak yet possessing a strange ugly beauty, it was as if the forest was trying to present itself as a single essence with all of its grim wonders distilled into a corporeal form. Though not moving, that predestined corporeal form still fought this grim distillation. Within possibly seconds, all of the forest's grim wonders would have all of the protesting actions from the human form cease. Mad Mikey would develop the funeral pace without death of a living tree. For all of eternity it would be aware of itself but just another tree. The child would forever be a tree, forever be dirty green and powerless, __**silent and suffering…alone and abandoned.**_

**"**_**You ungrateful bastard! You are offered salvation, and you 'BLEEP' on it!**_**" **

_Mad Mikey knew what had to be done and that it had only moments to do it in. If it had to suffer, it would do so by its own doing rather than bearing another's crown of thrones. As fear gave way to a determined, angry focus, Mad Mikey stared right at Dawn. But the child wasn't looking at Dawn. It wasn't looking at anything. Nothing was worthy of that. _

_Not knowing that, terror shock through the blonde Moonchild as those inhuman green eyes with fiery fury looked at her as if she were an insect. Dawn's body went numb. For a few moments, the Aura Whisperer felt like her body would never feel cold or hot ever again. When there was a strange tingling, which ricocheted all over the ivory colored surface of Dawn's pale skin in a seemingly endless series of wavelengths. This tingling would soon give way to something else, something worse. It wasn't because of the eyes. _

"_**I'm glad it's happening to him instead of me."**_

_Mad Mikey's body, under siege by the whims of the forest, began smoking. It smoked violently and the thick black vapors commingled with the forest's fumes of green and grey. Suddenly, the forces of the forest on Mikey's body were smote without restraint!_

_Dawn felt to the ground suddenly in physical pain! There was searing pain all over! Every breath, every motion, every thought, seemed to ignite Dawn's body and mind! The agony within that searing pain was absolute; there was no means of relief or escape! _

"_**Why do you break me? Have you no pity!"**_

_A second skin, a moving skin, had replaced its mocha-skin being turned into mossy wood. A skin of painful heat and chosen damnation, a skin of fire with flames containing red rubies and yellow ambers. As it took the fire, the demon's body was consumed in Hell fires, meant to avoid another Hell even more horrible. Feeling its skin as it sizzles and bubbles away, Mad Mikey became a blazing statute that was before a string-less marionette. The statute once string-less marionette doesn't move and doesn't run. And it's not just because of the roots pinning it to the ground. With the fatalism common to its existence, it knows that stumbling from the flames would be futile. These were flames that it couldn't run away from. _

_And that was something that Dawn was discovering to, that the flames, the fatalism, were not something she could run away from. Though there was not flame or warmth upon her, the Moonchild was feeling every pain-filled perspective that the fires forced on her and Mad Mikey. Dawn remembered a comment from earlier, she remembered being called a member of the highest choir of angels. She remembered the title __Seraph and realized that's exactly what she was right now. She had become a flameless burning one!_

"_**How do we know that being with the angels will be a better deal?"**_

_For the first few moments, the only sound was that of the flame, harshly taunting the tormented being with its cruel crackling. But then a bellow was issued forth from Mad Mikey in an un-human voice of the afflicted with a tone of ringing brass. Born out of the fire, the demon spoke its own language by converting its pain into an electronic sounding of melancholy words and agony transfixed. _

_In her great and terrible pain, the Moonchild instinctually prayed to the Great Earth Mother for some mercy, for some icy chill to calm her aching body and sooth her frenzied mind. It never came. No relief ever came. The end came from the fire and ash. _

"_**I know I had to be destroyed. I was a mistake of nature."**_

_To this most horrid of sounds, by its own doing, Mad Mikey was reduced to blackened pieces. In a few seconds, no Mikey was left. With the body burned away, the blackest of ashes falling to the cold, muck mired ground were the proof that Mad Mikey was thus destroyed. But like the equally mythical Phoenix, the ashes drew together and fused themselves so that it resumed the demon's form and Mad Mikey instantly returned. _

_Again, words and comparisons are unless to make you understand, dearest reader, what Dawn felt. The only way for one to even begin to understand is to imagine that despite not being physically altered in the slightest, she felt blazing heat and every part of her feature break up into millions of small charred pieces. And then imagine all of the fractional collisions and countless errors, as her body resembled itself with all of the human body's complex components in the correct sequence. With every imperfect alignment between every microscopic bit adding a new pitch of pulsating pain. _

"_**Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it!"**_

_The crippled kid king, the soon to be evil Emperor of this kingdom dolorous, laid in mud. The mournful, newly mutilated shade had eyes trying to gush forth its woe but couldn't. Though not shedding tears, the sadness in its eyes was as unquestionable as their bright green glow was in sludge as livid and black as a peppercorn. Despite this happening far more often than it should, due to Mad Mikey's efforts to not become a part of the forest, the pain never could any easier to endure. It always remembered but it was always doomed. The whole episode was symbolic of Mad Mikey's entire existence…no body, __**only the pain.**_

_In its pain, the young Mad Mikey heard the voices again. It couldn't have known it but these voices from the humans it hated were telling it what its future self thought. _

"_**No one really gives a 'BLEEP' about the poor and starving and suffering. Only the powerful and supreme are deemed sincerely important."**_

"_**I was born without a conscience!"**_

"_**Am I my brother's keeper? They aren't even my brothers! Why endure all of this?"**_

"_**When I claw my way out of this place, I'm going to kill one person for every second I've spent in this world of 'BLEEP'!"**_

_As she lied on the dark cold muddy floor of this dark forest, Dawn's eyes were closed. They had become too inebriated by horrors and pain. She feared that if she started crying that her face would irrigate blood also and that blood would commingle with her tears. Despite her not knowing it,_ _the __grey shroud around her became a red flash of phosphorus fire._

**The mists churning in grey flashed fiery red! A barrier to the bleak was broken!**

* * *

_As __**Mad Mikey**__ found itself in the latest in a series of nearly identical pleasant areas, it heard something. It was soft and soul crushing, a little girl's crying. It was disgusted! There was no sound more sickening in this sick and dying world than that of sobbing steak, of human crying. It was so pitiful and pathetic. The ultimate insulting failure of humanity, most never understood what they admit whenever tears are shed. They admit that they were weak and limited. They admit that they are chained to an atrocious coil, the mortal coil. After all, __**man is born crying and after he cries enough, he dies!**_

_Not too far away, Mad Mikey found the source of those sickening sounds. Sure enough, it was Dawn as a much younger girl who was again wearing the same exact clothes. Despite nothing being said, Mad Mikey could feel the exact reason why she was so sad. _

_As a child with supernatural powers, Dawn could either be the most popular or unpopular child in her hometown. She was the later, having virtually no friends in or out of school. Combine the fact that her insights into people always scared them away with the fact that she had pretty much no control when saying what she sees, and you quickly guess why. There were so many times when little Dawn wished with all of her heart that she could control her mouth so it wouldn't automatically say whatever she sensed in another's aura! But all of this wishing did nothing and as her early years ticked by the young Moonchild obtained a long list of unwanted nicknames from her peers: __**freak, weirdo, creepy, demon, loser, fairy, monster, witch, abomination**__ and so many more. __It didn't help that many of the other children's parents had a similar view of her, often calling her something along the lines of __**'a very nice goblin girl that must be avoided'**__ to the more curious of the children to keep them away. _

_Because of this endless list of cruel names and almost no human interaction, Dawn had an extremely low opinion of herself. There were so many times where she thought to herself __**'Act normal'**__, __**'Be someone else'**__, or __**'Don't say anything'.**__ Though confused and alone, Dawn understood why these people were that way; people always __**fear what they don't understand. **__But that didn't make her hurt and loneliness any less or softened. There were times, however few, were the young Dawn wished she could just blame the others for not accepting her, if only to lessen some of the pressure on her shoulders. But however tempting that might be, she knew that wasn't right or helpful. Despite that, she still felt more like a freak and a goblin instead of what she actually was. _

_Mad Mikey knew these types of feelings all too well, but to a much, much larger degree. It watched intently what might be revealed here. _

_As the small saddened one sobbed away for some latest failed attempt to make a friend, two figures approached her from behind. They appeared to be a man and a woman in their early thirties. The man had hair that was long and light blonde while his eyes were a greyish-blue. His clothes were light blue jean shorts, a purple sweater, black shoes, and a golden earring. But the features of his that stood out the most were his brown glasses and extremely dark tan skin. The woman had hair that was short and jet-black while her eyes were brown. She wore dark teal jeans, a white shirt, and brown shoes. There were two red wristbands on her left wrist and a light blue earring on each ear. But the most interesting features were her ivory pale skin and her face that was producing expressions that were slightly similar to Dawn's. Each figure went to one of the young Dawn's sides and put a hand on one of her shoulders. _

_Noticing there hands on her petite shoulders, the young Dawn acknowledged them and asked them a question that she had been pondering for sometime now in solitude. _

"_Mom…Dad…what's wrong with me...how come people don't want me?"_

_With their hands still on their crying daughter, Dawn's parents looked at each other. They tried to think of what to say but at the moment the only things they could think of would only make Dawn feel worse. In truth, this was all new territory for either of them. It wasn't until recently that they even discovered that their daughter had these powers. And they only understood what was happening at all because Dawn's grandmother, on her mother's side, appeared to have always had a similar gift. So it was through her that her black haired daughter and tan son-in-law went for support when dealing with Dawn's gifts. But that didn't help Dawn's position with her classmates and other adults._

_While they might not be able to change that right now, the two adults could do something far more important. It was the mother who began this process. _

"_Dawn, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. You're the best daughter a mother could hope for. I've never seen anymore more compassionate and caring than you."_

"_But then why does everyone hate and fear me except you and dad and grandma? I mean, I know why they do but why do they?" The child asked in sad confusion, realizing the logical reason why but unable to fully grasp how people could hate or fear another. _

"_I know it is hard for you Dawn but you have to keep trying." Dawn's father said to his little angel with a smile that increased as he talked. "If you don't, things will only get worse. And if there's anything your mother and me know, it's that things get better with you more then we could have expected."_

"_How do you know that? What do you mean?" The younger version of Dawn asked. _

"_Did we ever tell you why we named you Dawn?" Dawn's mother asked the child. _

_The young Moonchild shook her head; she had never learned why they named her Dawn. _

_As a smile started growing on the mother's face, she told Dawn the story of her name. _

"_No? Well then. We named you Dawn because when you were born, at first we saw this mass of light yellow and then we saw the most beautiful thing we could have imagined. The only thing that even came close was this perfect sunrise that we both saw shortly after we started dating. After seeing that sunrise, we felt like nothing was impossible and everything would work out in the end. And seeing you as you've grown up, we both know that we were right. Neither us could have guessed that our baby girl would be special not just because she's our daughter. We never could have said in confidence that you'd have these gifts and be so wonderful in ways apart from those remarkable gifts."_

_The young Moonchild stared up at her parents, her eyes still wet. But now, the tears had stopped falling and a massive smile appeared on her pale face. While technically nothing had changed, for this moment that didn't matter. Dawn had felt all alone and trapped within seemingly endless despair, but not anymore. Now, thanks to the simple love of her parents and the hope of a better tomorrow expressed in her parent's story, the eight-year-old aura whisperer was ready to began making a better future for herself. It would be because of moments and exchanges like this over the years that Dawn was able to master her gifts and more importantly not to care about the bad things others would say or think about her. Instead of being hurt or hateful, Dawn would strive to be helpful. _

"_I really like that name." Dawn said with her large smile and wet eyes. _

"_We do too, my little angel." Her mother said in a very sweet tone. _

"_Yeah, we do. I mean we were going to name you Molly. What kind of a silly name is Molly anyway?" The father said, caught in the relief of making his daughter feel better. _**(4) **

_"Um…Excuse me?! My name is Molly!" Dawn's mother said in a calm but menacing voice her hands on her hips and a cold stare at her husband. _

"_Uhh…oh…d-did I say silly?" Dawn's father struggled to say as his eyes widened and he began sweating bullets. "Because I meant silly in how sweet and beautiful it is, honey!"_

_After still staring coldly at Dawn's father for a few moments, Molly gave a sly grin before kissing her husband on the cheek. After saying, "That's better," Dawn's mother began walking away from her newly happy daughter and her newly nervous husband. _

"_Dad, I can see your lying." The eight-year-old girl said, again not knowing when not to say something she shouldn't. It would take many years for her to not say instantly anything that was revealed in the flashes from other's auras. _

"_Quiet Dawn." The child's father said out of the corner of his mouth trying to be as quiet as possible in the case Molly might hear it. _

_As the eight year old Dawn stared up at her father in confusion, there was laughing from another, another being that was technically eight years old. Yes, it was Mad Mikey who was laughing. Not laughing out of sadism but merriment. It had actually found the little exchange between these three human ghosts of the past amusing, in a touching way. _

_This surprising display (even to itself) was the only outward indication of what was happening inwardly and it was an unbelievably insubstantial expression of the internal. Mad Mikey had been truly taken aback by how it felt when Dawn was receiving affection from a cat and a dog. Just imagine the wordless pleasures and joys it was now feeling when that same child, who was in the grips of despair, found love in those who she cared about most. _

_Within it's long believed cold and dead core something stirred that hadn't before. Its moments and presence was a mystery of energy. It was warm and soothing, it was alive. The mystery energy that it couldn't have described came rolling over it as it imparted onto Mad Mikey a long fine flash that encapsulated an entire generation, a whole species. No explanation, no mix of words or logical thoughts, could touch the sense of knowing and fullness or the effects that Mad Mikey now felt inside that flash. _

_There was so much pain in Mad Mikey, so many negatives of different dyes and textures. Within this one being there was lime envy, buttery fear, rubicund anger, cerulean sadness, frosty suffering, lavender regret, dusky vengeance, and hoary cruelty. But now the separate shades of its pain were merging, as if clays of clashing colors were being crushed together into a single brown humpy bruise on its questionably existent soul. Would this bruise of the uncertain soul eventually fade, as do all bruises of the flesh?_

_But the flash brought more than the reducing of pain. There was a fantastic universal sense that all could and would be right, that no matter the hardships and torment along the way that it was not in vain and ultimately worth it. There was a sense of inevitable victory over the forces of the old and evil those were until now all that Mad Mikey had known. This warm and fantastic universal energy would simply __prevail__ as it came with all of the momentum of existence behind it. Riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave, the demon was guided to what it had always wondered of but couldn't have experienced. _

_The glory of the wave seemed to move everything and penetrate throughout the universe with its resplendent wonder. Within it there was so much that it didn't matter that the bottom and source was unknowable as its own depth concealed it. Contained inside of the depth and the wave was all things, placed in a single volume bound by something transient and phenomenal and previously perceived as an abstract. In the throngs of the lessening of its pain, the persona that wasn't human realized what this was. For the first time ever, Mad Mikey was content as it was in a lasting sweetness fully satiating it. The demon now knew the imprint of the eternal pleasure that was __**love. **__**Mad Mikey felt love!**_

_As it felt the ground become soggy once again, Mad Mikey was too preoccupied with the new emotions it was savoring to notice. __If the tears could come…they would have now. __As the water of the pillar surrounded it to bring it to the next location within the aura of Dawn, it wondered if maybe a new dawn came. If this is what love was, could it and other joys of life be known to it, known to a demon? When all around it was water, Mad Mikey thought, for once, that maybe just maybe the answer could be…yes._

**The water became a pillar! New knowledge soaked and clung to the visitor's form!**

* * *

A lone figure stood outside of the medical faculty. The person who snuck away from the others earlier in the lobby after the battle plan was formed, the person whose leaving the Confessional unknowingly spurred B, was now outside of its protections and promises.

This person could not help but ponder over it, over what had brought them to this appalling position? Was it fear? Desperation? Yes and no. While those factors were there, they were subservient to something, to some other factor. A factor that was as simple as it was complex; it was **love, mostly love served as this person's guide. **

Turning around to face the faculty, to face the direction of the people who this love was for, the person couldn't help be ever so briefly smirk at the doors to the faculty. This smirking was because both this person's face (in reflection) and name (in paint) were displayed on the doors. In both reflection and paint one saw…**Dakota Milton!**

As she stood outside of the safety of the medical faculty that bared her name, Dakota saw the Haunted Forest. She saw a place of nightmares, a haunted abyss that stares into you. Rather than the ghosts of the dead, it was **the ghosts of what one could have been and what one is** that haunted it. Those were the ghosts, what one could have been and what one is, that had been haunting Dakota even before Mad Mikey.

The unspeakable truth loomed over Dakota as vast and undeniable as the sun over this bright early afternoon. Leaving the shadows of doubt that were too great a luxury even for this member of the one percent, Dakota began a slow advance towards the cold truth and the glimmering light. After a few heavy steps, she paused and began faintly sobbing.

What was to happen next? No one, in particular Dakota herself, could say. There were so many forks in the road of her future. And each fork leads to a place more horrible than the last. But there were two inescapable facts for Dakota, and these were the greatest source of horror. First, she had to walk down this road, no matter where it might lead her. Second, this was likely the end, **the burial**, of Dakota even in the best-case scenario.

But then Dakota remembered why she was bearing this indescribably horrific burden. After a lifetime of people helping her, it was time for the former fame-hog to help someone, the people who had helped her more than anyone no matter the cost. And for the first time ever, it wouldn't be a cost measured in the zeros of paper money or gold.

She didn't know why but Dakota's mind flashed to the memory of another Milton, John Milton, writer of the acclaimed epic poem _Paradise Lost_. It was a story meant to show the reasons, whether personal flaw or legitimate grievance, of Satan's dark rebellion and the effects of his banishment into the torments of Hell. Also, it was created to show how that action then lead to the fall of Adam and Eve from Paradise, with Eve being compelled to sin by Satan in the form of a serpent with the promise of self-knowledge. There was no serpent in this version of the story. Or if there was, it did not bring this Eve to sin through the promise of **self-knowledge**. Instead this serpent, **with its green eyes envious and hateful of humanity**, brought the fear of death. What was the same between the epic poem from the seventeenth century and the present moment was the basic point of the story: **noble intentions lead to atrocity.**

Taking in one last deep breath to calm her nerves however slightly,** the atrocity began!**

As a by now all too familiar series of sounds and physical sensations began, something about this was as far from familiar as could be. Whereas before these experiences were linked to Dakota losing control and trying to reclaim it, now they were Dakota allowing them! They were Dakota surrendering to the presence that wasn't her, that wasn't human.

While there was physical pain as Dakota began allowing the Dakotazoid to take control, that wasn't what concerned her most. That honor belonged to something else, something even more important.

Dakota's eyes began to glaze over and a thick mist of yellow and red was slowly rendering her vision pointless. As the mist around her field of vision grew, Dakota could notice herself slipping away to the other presence inside of her. Dakota's thoughts and memories slowly started to be eroded away, falling down a rabbit hole that leads to no Wonderland. What frightened Dakota the most at this point was the fear that those things which made her Dakota; her experiences, her personality, her family and friends, would be forever unrecoverable in the churning yellow-red mist. **Unrecoverable to the Dakoazoid! **

Though her hearing and vision by this point were greatly limited, Dakota still had enough of both senses to hear a loud banging on the massive metal door of the faculty. Turning her head, which was now almost twelve feet in the air, Dakota saw Sam and a few of her other friends through a large window at the center of the door. Sam was the most visible person, because he was violently slamming against the door with an open mouth indicating that he was shouting desperately to Dakota. It was clear that they were trying to open the door to stop Dakota. And that's why Dakota messed with the door's locks, combining her natural technological skills with her knowledge of the medical faculty. This was both to ensure that her friends couldn't stop her and to protect them just in case the Dakotazoid didn't do what Dakota hoped it would.

Looking at them, **her only true friends**, Dakota couldn't have wished for a better sight. While her eyes were now red and yellow, enough of Dakota was still in them to show her friends a look of joy mixed with regret. This was further conveyed by a faint smile on now monstrous lips.

Showing her friends the last visible bastion of her humanity and her very existence, Dakota turned her body's head as her final physical act, to spare her friends having to see the moment when the transformation was completed.

For a moment or two that was beyond tense, Dakota's now mutated body stood perfectly still with its back to Dakota's friends still trying to unlock the faculty's doors. They did not see the final moment of surrender but they quickly knew it to be terribly true.

Breaking the tense silence was **a devastating howl**, a howl so horrible that those on the other side of the doors could virtually feel Dakota's vocal cords tearing from the strain!

But they were not Dakota's vocal cords, **not anymore.** Admit the heartbreak in the howl there was also energic exhilaration from a creature for the first time ever having total control. Saddened yet savory, **it was the death of Dakota and the birth of the Dakotazoid!**

The head on the twelve-foot tall-mutated body turned to see the teenagers, who except for Sam had stopped trying to open the door. The teenagers saw the face, but they didn't see Dakota. What they saw were leering red-yellow eyes coldly staring and an expression matching that of an animal, blank and reflective of a lessor mind slowly understanding.

While not showing an angry frown or revealed teeth, this blank expressionless face was even more disheartening to the teenagers. It confirmed in simple visual something they didn't want to admit…Dakota was not there anymore. Even Sam stopped trying to open the door at seeing the Dakotazoid's face, **at not seeing Dakota in that face.**

After staring at the human teenagers that were Dakota's friends for a few moments, the Dakotazoid turned its head towards the Haunted Forest. Gazing into its dark, uninviting nature, the Dakotazoid released a loud growl as it suddenly charged in between the trees.

In many a movie or video game, a moment such as this would be followed by a piece of blazing and bombastic music to celebrate a mighty force charging against another. This music and other such accompaniments would be meant to build some required tension before the epic release and radiant glory of the battle about to take place. And then there would be the requisite fight scene itself, a satisfying slugfest to amuse with its fantastical violence that never crossed the line of being so horrible that it wasn't entertaining. And this would lead to the already predetermined conclusion of good's triumph over the forces of evil!

This moment was not one of triumph. For all of the fireworks and savage spectacle that was about to take place, it was not something to be relished. All of the high-stakes action about to transpire was a sad and dire thing. Hanging over whatever was about to happen was the death of an innocent. Not in the matter of death which produces a corpse but a matter in which human sweetness is sacrificed to the savage, **to the monster not human.**

* * *

Two bodies stood with the quiet stillness of animal corpses surrounding them. But they were not among the dead in the cemetery. They were alive but on another plain of life. They were still in a spiritual connection, seeing and feeling the very essence of the other. This meant that one, a human, was in the aura and horrors of a monster not human. While the other, **the monster not human** was experiencing the human sweetness never known.

_Though the pleasant pastures and friendly forests hadn't changed, to __**Mad Mikey**__ they did. To the persona trapped for all of its existence in the darkness of night, they became even greater. _

_The plants had fresh dew; diamonds of perspiration on their green skins glistening like light on jade most rare and valuable. __The fruits and flowers of the trees and bushes were at once many colors though hues golden and emerald shined the most. Everything seemed to shine now. _

_This was a whole brave new world, a world whose sight was all in stars. They were little stars, jewels of light that were forming luminous cobwebs and drifting through the air. They were the insects, normally repulsive but made wondrous by this place. And the most wonderful of all were the bees. They were jerking through the lustrous air as they carried both buzzing and the powered gold of the flowers that their hind legs were dipped in. Whereas the only buzzing Mad Mikey had ever known, the buzzing of flies, was heard when they were feeding on the dead and dying, this buzzing of the bees was the delivery of new life and beautiful life. And this new and beautiful life had a scent, filling the air with native perfumes, which spread with __their odoriferous wings fanning and flapping._

_The delights of this place drove away all of the demon's pains and woes with gentle gales in loving sunlight. All sadness save for despair, the despair was the strongest of the woes. _

_With despair still gripping it, Mad Mikey saw something unique in this place. Young and fresh tendrils, supple and green, were muscling there way over the bark of an aged tree, dark and rotten. At the same time, gnarled chinks of the trunk revealed other vines vibrant with new life that was budding out from the dark underbelly. Unable to decide if it was its own imagination or proof of this aura's lack of subtlety, the meaning was clear. _

_Was it to renounce its anger that would bring pains a billion fold upon the foe humanity as they were hurled into whichever tumultuous tundra and house of Hell they so chose? Or was Mad Mikey to place faith in a pathway strange and unknown known as love? _

_It never thought it would have been possible but Mad Mikey was truly torn by indecision. What it had seen and felt was more beautiful than it could have imagined. Even though nothing had changed, just being in the presence of this human love made it seem lessor. __The devilish engine fueling Mad Mikey with a wrath beyond the limits of man actually began to recoil and stop, maybe for good. Doubts and concerns from its core rose. _

_The persona felt like it was at the morning of a new and better life. Mad Mikey had never seen the morning, the positive and loving. It knew of them but never had seen them before. __Unlike the night…oh yes, it was well acquainted with the night. That night which had hidden so many things from Mad Mikey. It was born in it, raised in it, forsaken in it! That moss-draped mire and treaded path of twisting trees was so disdainful! All pathways lead by to it, the same inevitable destination. The forest, the night, the pain…by any name its all the same. __**But it was all that Mad Mikey knew! **__Within that disdainful realm was the only stability, it was so horrible but it was the only existence that it could identify with itself. Could Mad Mikey take a leap of faith in the hopes of something better? Could it even make any difference in the long run? _

_Would it truly be able to escape? As it had told Dawn earlier, Mad Mikey had itself become its own Hell. Was itself a Hell from which no deliverance could be given and no escape obtained? Maybe…__**but maybe not!**__ With the power of one side already well known and the power of this other side now proven, maybe there was hope in love? _

_Maybe Paradise was not a place but a state of mind as well? Maybe Heaven and happiness could be carried and crafted in the mind in a manner matching Hell? _

_**And it felt so good! The love felt so total and right!**_

_It was rising like the phoenix in the chest of Mad Mikey, about to be __**reborn in beauty!**__ But the positive hopes of love weren't the only thing that was rising within Mad Mikey. _

_As a conscience long since in death-like slumber began to stir…__**bitter realizations and memories did occur. **_

_Despite the wonderful human emotions it was feeling in full, Mad Mikey knew something. __**It was not human.**__ It was a sentient personality of another, twisted into something else entirely, into something terrible. It was something to be opposed and destroyed! Those were a few of the messages that were encrusted into its core. It was not human but so many other unloved things. A it. A thing. A plague. A tiger. A wolf. A dragon. A monster. A demi-god. __**A demon.**_

_Demons shouldn't be happy, couldn't be happy. __**Demons couldn't love.**__**Couldn't be loved! **_

_Would Mad Mikey, a being who has breathed in nothing but the foulest of moral vapors, suddenly be able to get a lovely dovey with those who had brought so much pain on it? Would this demon be able to just forget all of its torment as if it never happened and didn't matter? _

_What human could or would truly care about and love a demon? Would any human apart from Dawn be truly able to give it compassion after the horrible things it had already done with plans for much worse? _

_As much as it hated to admit it, to expect humans to love it would be futile. And as Mad Mikey had told Dawn before this dialogue began, it did not believe in __**"**__**pitiful notions of futility."**_

_Instead, Mad Mikey would be condemned to a lessor Hell than it was in now…lessor but still a Hell. It would give and give in love without ever having its emotions returned! _

_And not only that, but even if some humans did somehow love it, would that be enough? Could the love of even six thousand humans balance out the pain from over six billion? It would be like saying an equation is balanced by there being one positive and one million negatives. Could the tiny difference between -1,000,000 and -999999 really be worth it? __**Could the full love of one truly save it from the horrors of the world entire?**__ Likely no. _

_But maybe that wouldn't be so? Maybe it would still be best to take a leap of faith? _

_**No, not again! **__It remembered too well the first time it had taken a leap of faith for a human with the promise of love as the price never paid. That's how it reached this horrid position in the first place. A leap of faith based in love, into a bottomless pit of enteral torment that now defined its existence and would never go away! That was the funny thing about faith, it can be wrong. It can go unrewarded. It had always amazed Mad Mikey how people rarely truly considered that notion, that for every sincerest of hopes was an unfulfilled reality because despite all the wishing there was nothing to back it up. _

_On top of all of those thoughts and realizations, others came as well. With great despair, Mad Mikey had made its choice. However one sided and unfair, it was still its choice. _

_Then it remembered Dawn, that foolish idealist suffering in the furnaces of Mikey's Hell. As it wondered if the Moonchild was diluted enough to still believe in some nobility, the demon traveled back into that nightmare. It traveled back to the way things truly were._

* * *

_Still in the throngs of a pain and despair the likes of which she couldn't have imagined in her darkest dreams, __**Dawn **__was writhing in the absolute agony of the body and the soul. But then, the voices, those horrible human voices, suddenly stopped! Praying thankfully to the Great Earth Mother, Dawn stood up at long last and looked around this fearful and forsaken forest. She saw nothing new but she heard a voice she hadn't heard in what felt like literal ages. Dawn would soon have almost wished for the other voices to return. For Mad Mikey was about to express the other things it had realized while in Paradise. _

"_I know my time, my death, will come, likely by Mike's own hands under my control. That was my goal at first you know, to just kill Mike and myself so my pain would end." Mad Mikey's voice was heard saying to Dawn. The Moonchild still was able to notice that its voice was the same voice it had before she entered this Hell. It was __Mike's voice with a woe filled electronically distorted monotone that had no growl twisted within its tone. _

"_But now before that time, before I leave this wretched existence for the soothing and cold embrace of nothingness, I'll have what has eluded me my entire existence." Within that single sentence, Mad Mikey's voice had changed. There was no longer any __electronically distorted monotone. What replaced it were the faintest indicators of a raspy growl. But even so, it was a growl-like voice that was mournful and quiet. _

"_I'll not be forced to half-feel the taunting emotions of mankind, not be suffocated by the ever-present stink of your species' capacity for hypocrisy. In my final moments, the final moments of anything, I'll at long last find peace from humanity's emotional lies and my life of hollow reality." As those two sentences were spoken, Mad Mikey's voice changed yet again. The growl and raspy tone were far stronger, as if hesitating dormant no longer. But even so, there was still much sadness and less liveliness in this growl. _

"_My plan, __**the extermination of humanity**__, is all that I have. __**Punishment." **__With those words, the last of the fringes of the mournful sadness left the demon's voice in a whimper. _

_What would replace the whimper was a bang, a roaring raspy bass of a bang. A roaring growl voice like the most horrid of sounds bellowed forth from the deepest and darkest of Hells, fitting for realms that give unwanted increases in the knowledge about the depths of abomination by producing creatures that would tear the feathered wings from the purest of angels as a moment's respite from boredom and their own endured brutality! _

"_Punishment for Mike, Johnson, Zoey, and all of humanity for their part in my suffering! To give them but a small splinter from the cross which I had been nailed to for years by their hypocrisy and emotions! It is high time for someone, for __**something**__ to make them all pay for all of their transgressions, petty or grand! To make them pay for every single horrendous action or thought that they could stop but chose not to while my suffering increased because of that even when it was greater than they could ever hope to understand! They could never hope to understand that because of them that I, for all of my__** god-like power**__, am reduced to a __**broken fallen angel**__ who can only find some sense of solace in other's suffering! But they will understand! They will understand that __**they are all bastards and deserve to die too!"**_

_At that moment, there was a flash! A flash of brightest green! Suddenly everything was being lost and engulfed by an infinite tide of nightmare ripples in emerald fathoms!_

_Dawn knew what this meant…Mad Mikey was returning to the physical plain with the intention of killing everything on Earth, starting with her! She knew she had only the space of a flash to return to her body from this cosmically immense miniature mental labyrinth of gnarled torments and boggy beginnings. Would a flash be enough time to escape both death and a current fate worse than death? _

Back in the mutant graveyard once a cemetery, two orbs of most glowingly bright green flashed radiantly at the air thick with flies and the stench of death. The invisible tiger swapped its mighty, mocha-colored claw with the aim of adding to that sickening stench.

As the coffee colored claw that was really stolen human fingers cleaved through the air, contact was made! Something had been caught by fingernails covered in the blood and gore of this island's mutated creatures, was it their saint?

The demon examined its prize, darkly praying that it was a shredded Seraph. What it found was a piece of thick, dark green fabric flipping in the faint breeze. It was a piece of Dawn's dark green sweater. Mad Mikey then knew if it has just been a microsecond faster, Dawn would very likely have been split in half and found her blood mixing with the blood of beasts that she loved so much on the stained grass.

With anger and hurt from and for all, itself included, Mad Mikey shouted at the pretentious pixie. The demon shouted at humanity and its chosen path.

"Dawn! Feeble fairy! COME AND FACE ME! **COME AND FACE THE TRUTH!"**

* * *

Everything seemed to be oversaturated in overwhelming solemnness. There was nothing from which one could borrow a cease of sorrow, nothing to remove the stench of despair.

This despair overshadowed every action taken and filled the air as much as the sounds of every key that was being pressed by B. Like all of the others who had been there when Dakota became the Dakokazoid (Sam, Cameron, Zoey, Brick), the Mute by Choice had gone to the room where this faculty's camera feed was collected and stored. Finding themselves joined by Dr. Johnson, Anna Maria, and Jo (the last one was only there because she had been looking for B and Cameron due to her discovering that they were not working on the battle armor), other teenagers and the adult waited with a sense of foreboding behind B. After this terrible turn of events with Dakota, everybody had one overpowering concern and question. They all had to know why Dakota would do such a thing, why she willingly became the Dakotazoid?

As B was searching through the recorded footage to find the entry that he had seen earlier, everyone else looked at each other in saddened silence. No one there could have in a million years have expected this turn of events. Most of them were well aware of the great and terrible pain even the thought of transforming had on Dakota. But not only had she transformed but the Dakotazoid actually ran off (it was assumed) after Mad Mikey!

After a few minutes of searching for a second time, B finally found the video he was looking for. He found the last Confessional entry left by Dakota, possibly the last ever.

B pressed the last needed key. And then…those in this room were face to face with Dakota. They were **face to face with the truth**, whatever that may be!

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

(Static)

"Hi, everyone. If you are watching this, then it means I must have succeeded in transforming into the Dakotazoid. You're all likely wondering why I did this.

"Well, after Zoey was attacked by that panicked mob and Jo was making a plan of attack, I realized some things. I realized that we all could die today, that my friends could die today. I realized that even though I know there are some really smart cookies at work, there's no guarantee that Jo's battle armor could be made in time to stop Mad Mikey. I realized that even if it is finished in time, Mad Mikey might be too powerful by then to be stopped. None of those options can happen and I realized the only way to make sure they don't is to attack and stop Mad Mikey now. **As the Dakotazoid.**" Dakota explained, hoping to articulate fully her reasoning in the hope that her friends would understand.

Though most listening didn't want to admit it, Dakota's reasoning was very sound. None of them, not even Cameron or Dr. Johnson, had any way of knowing how powerful Mad Mikey might become when the battle armor was fully built and ready for combat. By that point it could already be too late and Mad Mikey could kill them all with horrific ease.

"I assure you that this was not a easy decision for me and its not one that I look forward to. I probably shouldn't say this but I must, I've thought of all of the possibilities at play. If the Dakotazoid is unable to defeat Mad Mikey within an hour, I'll become me again and will…" Dakota said before pausing, clearly unable to say that she would die. Moving on, she continued her explanation, "If the Dakotazoid does manage to beat Mad Mikey, I fear I'll likely be repressed forever. I know there's that sixty-minute fail-safe but what if the Dakotazoid proves to be like Mad Mikey and is able to transcend bodily limitations? We've never seen what would happen if the Dakotazoid was in control for more than a few minutes because Dawn was always there to bring me back to control. And if that doesn't happen, if the fail safe works, then it will likely result in the first option."

At bringing up that again, the first option that Dakota couldn't say out loud, the former fame-hog paused. Her green eyes reflected the most basic of humanity's fears. As those emeralds shined in frightened radiance, Dakota stopped giving her logical reasons and starting giving her personal motivations, the real reasons why she was going to do this.

"I'm more frightened than I have ever been before in my life. There are two paths before me. One course of action presents itself, and it horrifies me. But then I think of those who have helped me since I've been here. And how they had to be frightened but they still did everything they could for me. B, Brick, Cameron, Dawn, Zoey, and…and…Sam. You all have done more for me than you could ever know. It's about time for me to do something for all of you, my only true friends.

"Cameron, please make sure that you and B don't stop working on the battle armor. Even if I…fail, I'll hopefully have brought you guys enough time to finish it. I know you must be feeling guilty again but remember; everything I said earlier today is true." Dakota said with calm and certain clarity before showing a massive smile on her face as she added, "And cheer up, Mr. Cutie Pie! When this is all over, promise me that you'll reach out to one of those fan girls of yours that I showed you and start sucking face instantly!"

Dakota started to laugh a little, clearing trying to find some small happiness at this most daunting of moments for her. Finding the atmosphere in the room so tense, many of those watching couldn't help but laugh a little bit as well. It was a brief reprieve from a situation had just become a lot more emotionally difficult for just about everyone there.

The quick change of expression on Dakota's face from joy-filled smile to saddened frown highlighted just how brief of a reprieve the laughter truly was. Trying to fight this frown but failing, Dakota resumed talking. Whether it was because of the small release of her laughter or because of not wanting to forget it, Dakota voiced some of her deepest fears.

"Though I'm very afraid of…afraid of, um, losing the fight, or losing control of my body, those are not my greatest fears. Even if I don't, uh, you know, **I** can't be sure **I'll** ever see Sam again with **my own eyes.** I might never be able to talk to him or feel him ever again. But even those possibilities don't hurt as much as me not being able to see Sam right now. He would try to talk me out of this. Believe me when I say, I never wanted to be this cruel to Sam by not telling him. There's no other way but by God I wish there was another!" Dakota said, then she took a deep breath and heavy sigh before adding, difficultly, "Just in case I…do-don't…I don't…c-come back…Sam…**my Sammy Whammy…"**

At hearing that silly nickname between young lovers, that marker of human innocence, Sam looked at the screen with even greater focus. From that point onward, nothing else existed to the gamer. There was only the voice of the most amazing girl ever. It was a voice that had taken a brief pause for this was the hardest part, saying goodbye to Sam.

"If your watching this, please know that you've been the best thing that's ever happened to me. Before I met you I was just a sad, lonely little rich girl who had been trying to convince herself that she wasn't for years because that was easier.

"Then I met you. I admit at first I didn't think that much of you. But then I began to see your dedication, your kindness, your sincerity…and I began to see things differently.

"For the first time in my life, I felt something for someone else. I truly **felt** something. I found myself actually wanting to help others, to help you. To be with you. And I've loved every single minute of it. Even with my mutation, our time together was amazing.

"Why, when I finally beat a level in that game with those plumbers I…" Dakota said before pausing for a second while smiling at remembering such a happy memory and then continuing with the matters of the present, "…that…it, it doesn't matter right now.

"No, that's not true. In a way, I guess it does. That's what makes you so great, Sammy! Even when I was horrible at it so many times, your opinion of me didn't become any less.

I finally didn't have to be a prefect little princess for someone else, I didn't have to endlessly question if I was pretty enough or good enough.

"**You loved me for me**."

With that, Dakota stood up and took a few paces forward. She then bent down so her face was directly in front of the camera. With eyes starting to get watery but a wavering smile on her face, Dakota then whispered something to the camera. It was so difficult but it needed to be said. This would likely be the last chance she would ever get.

"And…**I…I love you for it. I love you."**

Overcome with emotion, the girl with green eyes and blond hair kissed the camera, a surrogate for Sam. Standing up, Dakota said two last words before leaving the Confessional to travel down a path that likely wouldn't lead to the one she loved.

"**Goodbye Sam."**

Hearing the sobs of regret, the camera documented the girl leaving its stationary sight. Pink lipstick was still smeared on its lens. As removable as the girl who made it and as bright as the love that created it.

(Static)

**END OF CONFESSIONAL**

* * *

As the bright pink was transformed into the shapeless bits of black and white static, its crackling was the only sound heard. Everyone else were displaying expressions that varying from shock to sadness. Many of those who watched Dakota's confession were friends of hers and it was hard for them to fully process everything that had happened. Even Jo and Anna Maria, two people who never thought much about Dakota one way or the other, were taken aghast and actually moved, however little, by the recorded footage.

But no one was more taken aghast and shocked than Sam. The gamer had stayed exactly as he was, not moving even an inch. As his black eyes behind glass just stared at the screen, they were developing an increasing resemblance to aquarium tanks as they were becoming watery. As what would very shortly form tears shifted in between his eyes and his glasses, Sam barely heard it. He barely heard his name being said.

Turning his head, Sam was that his friends were all looking at him, likely realizing how this affected him more than anyone else. And indeed he was. After that, other sounds were heard but the gamer didn't notice them. He tried to speak but no words would come.

He didn't scream, he didn't yell. The sadness he felt was too absolute, too deep and total, for such petty actions to be of any relevance. Even crying now would be too petty an action. Instead, Sam did something so simple but so soul-shattering to the others there. Truly feeling like the still living dead in any of the zombie games he normally loved, Sam just slowly started walking away from the others and out of the room.

As for the second time today his friends saw Sam in a state where they couldn't help him, the now gloomy gamer left the to be by himself with his deepest despair…**and tears.**

* * *

Not that far away from Mad Mikey, Dawn began walking back to the Milton Medical Faculty.

Rather than looking at the trees and bushes around her, she saw the future. And like Cassandra of Troy, that future she saw was a horrible one.

_The Dakotazoid fights against Mad Mikey. __**The Dakotazoid and **__**Dakota are dead.**__ Jo fights against Mad Mikey. __**Jo is dead.**__ Zoey is cornered by Mad Mikey__**. Zoey is dead.**__ Mike loses the will to live. __**Mike is dead.**__ The island explodes. __**Dawn, her friends, and everyone else on the island are dead.**__ Mad Mikey releases its anger on the world Dawn loves with all of her heart. __**The world is dead. **__Mad Mikey kills itself. __**Mad Mikey is dead.**_

_**Everything…DEAD!**_

Dawn said no words, save for one, which she spoke more as a deep breath.

"No."

This lamentation was two-fold. For as Dawn already knew, the future is a fork in the road, it is two totally different yet connected possible truths until a choice brings one into existence. And after that, a new fork was formed from the void left by the previous one. Creating an almost infinite variety of possible futures and outcomes based on every possible choice or prospect.

Though it was a long walk, Dawn didn't notice. Two sentences had sent themselves on a continuous loop in her mind.

'_There is only one other way this can end. I wish there was another.'_

While she kept walking, those words and the horrible prophecies spilled from head to heart as if they were black ink on white cloth.

**Impossible to remove**.

For the first time ever, Dawn did not know which way the wind would blow.

For all of the complexities and intricacies, the many forked roads lead to one place.

No matter which course the future took, it would be one filled with fire**…and tears**.

* * *

"**So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, **

**Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost. **

**Evil, be thou my good." –John Milton's Paradise Lost**

* * *

**Wow…there was significantly less sunshine and a greatly noticeable lacking of lollipops then I thought there would be! Moving on, there's a lot to cover here. **

**Let's start with the most important thing of all…the next few chapters are likely going to take a very long time to write and post here. There are many (mainly three) reasons as to why and I shall explain them all whether you want me to or not. **

**Firstly, unlike these first seven chapters, in which I had more or less everything in mind that had to be shown and covered, the sequence of things in the next few chapters is pretty vague. Don't get me wrong, I have at least a decent idea of the major things that happen in the next two or more chapters: Dawn dealing with her failure, Cameron and B building the battle armor, the Dakotazoid fighting Mad Mikey, and most importantly of all, the start of the major development for both Mike and Zoey. Now that Mad Mikey and the situation are almost fully established, I can really get into the particular struggles and torments of the main characters! So what will hold things up here is perfecting and fully thinking out the sequence of events and the development of the two most important of the story's contestants. **

**Secondly, there's the question of rating. Two things in the upcoming chapters and the remainder of the story will force me to really question either I can keep this story rated T or if I have to change its rating to M. The first of these is the violence. Starting in the next chapter, we will see Mad Mikey fighting the Dakotazoid and given the power of these beings it will be a long and pain-filled battle. As you likely know, I write with great detail and I would feel compelled to write the violence with the same amount of detail as everything else in this story. As I said after Dakota transformed, violence is normally presented as something horrible but not too horrible because its entertaining. This is simply not the truth, violence is a gruesome thing, and I would feel hypocritical if I didn't show that. The second thing is that this story is heading to truly dark places. I won't spoil how but let's just say that if you thought these first seven chapters were dark…you haven't seen anything yet! But I must stress that while things will get much darker, it is not merely for its own sake. While it will make things more dramatic, it is my deepest hope that the darkness doesn't come off as ****gratuitous or cheap.** **Instead, my aim is for the increased darkness to be realistic, intelligent, and believable within the context. **

**Thirdly, a few days before posting this chapter I applied to graduate school. If I get accepted, it would likely be a month or so before classes actually started. However, once graduate school does start, my time and energy to commit to this story will be greatly lessened. I will likely not be able to write another chapter before starting graduate school because of the two others said above happening at the same time. **

**And now for those four marked points! **

**(1) While I know that the main model for Dawn was Luna Lovegood from the **_**Harry Potter**_** series, the biggest influence for Dawn in this story was the ****Mahatma, ****Mohandas K. Gandhi. Many of the statements and ideas in the two paragraphs before this "(1)" were either based on people writing about Gandhi or based on writings from Gandhi himself. If you don't know who Gandhi is, I'll very briefly say here who he is. Gandhi was the preeminent leader of the struggle to grant India independence from Great Britain. By perfecting and mastering the art of non-violent protest, he defeated the most powerful empire in the world without armed rebellion. His techniques and beliefs were copied and used to great effect by Martin Luther King Jr. for the Civil Rights Movement in America during the 1960s. But there is so much more to Gandhi than just that. **

**To show this, here is a quote from Albert Einstein, a man who was pen pals with and a massive admirer of the Mahatma: "Mahatma Gandhi's life achievement stands unique in political history. He has invented a completely new and humane means for the liberation war of an oppressed country, and practised **_(error in original letter)_** it with greatest energy and devotion. The moral influence he had on the consciously thinking human being of the entire civilized world will probably be much more lasting than it seems in our time with its overestimation of brutal violent forces. Because lasting will only be the work of such statesmen who wake up and strengthen the moral power of their people through their example and educational works. We may all be happy and grateful that destiny gifted us with such an enlightened contemporary, a role model for the generations to come. Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood." **

**(2) Now, about the many horrible statements that torment Dawn in Mikey's aura. Some of these are references to movies, books, or video games. Some are original bits written by me. But, more importantly, others are either direct or slightly edited quotations from real serial killers, murderers, corruption politicians and businessmen, rapists, criminals, psychopaths, and violent revolutionaries. As to which are which, that's for you to guess. **

**(3) The cat and dog in this scene, Blondie and Raven, are my actual pets! And this situation, where Blondie is on my lap and Raven comes by for attention is one that happens way too often. They can be little pests sometimes but I love them so much! :) **

**(4) For those of you who might not know, Dawn's final design was extremely different from her original design. The only thing they really had in common was the pale skin. Even her name wasn't the same…Dawn was originally Molly! So I thought it would be fitting to have the original design be the model for her mother. Also, for some reason I thought of Dawn's dad being very Geoff-like, sweet but not that bright. **

**I write this last part both because I've been dying to mention it for some time now and as a way to show that despite the likely long space of time between this chapter and the next one, that I am working on and fully committed to this story. I have so many reasons for wanting to write this story but one of the largest is to just make a great story that just happens to be a Total Drama fan-fiction. It has been a goal of mine from the beginning to do with this story what the movies "Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan" and "The Dark Knight" did for their respective film franchises. And what exactly is that? Simply this: taking the tools and characters from a pre-established property and then adding to it with inspiration taken from good classic stories along with a dark quasi-realism that respects the reader's intelligence. I can only hope that I've actually done those things otherwise I will very likely come off as a pretentious jerk with his head firmly forced up his own backside! You decide! :) **

**As I said, I can't say with any certainly when the next chapter will come but it will likely be a while, likely much longer than the space in time between any chapters so far. But be assured that I am working on this story and it will be glorious, hopefully! **

**So until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	8. Blossomed Into Deformities

**Author's Notes: And here we are at chapter eight! I must thank those who have read or reviewed or altered or favored this story! You guys/girls are beyond awesome and I'm very happy to see your numbers growing with each new chapter! All right, here's how this opening author's note is going to go: a brief explanation, another story recommendation, a brief description of this chapter, and a fair warning about the story to come. **

**Brief Explanation: Yes, there has been a long wait for this chapter but I have three very valid reasons why that is. The third one I'll get to shorty but I'll focus on the first and second here. As my endnotes for the last chapter said, I have started graduate school! I've started not too long ago so the workload is not that bad…yet. However that has been part of the reason for this chapter's lengthy creation. But the greater reason is that I tired at first to fully outline the next two/three chapters as I was writing this one. This has largely just bit me in the ass and made the overall process much, much more headache inducing. It is only recently that I decided against this approach and the writing has come along much easier since then. **

**Another Story Recommendation: As you've likely picked up on by now, I like to guide people to other stories that I love and that I feel like more people should know about them and be given the chance to read them and the joys they offer. However, this time it is slightly different. This story is one that I am a part of. In collaboration with TheGunmaster, I have been writing a story called "Total Drama, What is Real?" So far, only 2 chapters have been written but I'm please with them. This story is an alternate Season 5 in which eventually almost all of the contestants from the first four seasons will compete with or against 18 OCs under a new host. While my being directly involved with it is a part of it, I think this story is great! Please check it out by visiting TheGunmaster's profile. You truly will not regret it! **

**Brief Description: This chapter is basically establishing and showing all of the situations and character states that will be continued in later chapters or play some role in the story as a whole. So if it seems like this chapter is not as complete as the other ones, that's because this chapter is showing what is happening to some of the teenagers, offering glimpses as to where the story is ultimately heading, and establishing the major "theaters" of action that will be in the next few chapters. **

**Fair Warning: This might be not needed for anyone who has read this far into this story but I always believe in being safe rather than sorry. And the warning I must give is that this chapter is the start of a whole new level of dark that will remain largely unbroken until the story's end (especially within the next few chapters). Seriously, while "Mad Mikey" has been unquestionably dark leading to this, this chapter marks the beginning of that being taken to eleven! It's going to get so bleak in some ways! **

**And as a side-note, that's one of the reasons why Mike and Zoey haven't been focused on in extraordinary great detail until this point. You'll see what I mean. **

**Having said that, here's the eighth chapter of "Mad Mikey": Blossomed Into Deformities**

* * *

_Mike did not know where he was. What he did know was that he was sick, sick to death of this long agony, this long agony that was only a minute or two in real time. His senses had started to leave him, his unreserved but powerless cries for Zoey were the last of any accentuations to reach his ears and the sight of Zoey being held up by the throat by Mike's own hand was the last vision to reach his eyes. After that, all senses developed the blur of a spinning wheel as they all had appeared to merge into a single dream-like state of the unspecified. The teenager would soon regain the bearings of his senses, but he would soon wish that he hadn't. _

_Everything sank into nothingness; the blackness of the darkness supervened all sensations as they appeared to be swallowed up by the mad rushing descent of the soul into Hell. Then there was total silence and stillness; the night had become the universe._

_Though the closest we, as beings with our feet firmly implanted in the physical world, could hope to understand Mike's current state was that he had lost all consciousness, he hadn't. His state wasn't one of delirium or death or deepest slumber, instead it was that delicate state were one is dreaming but doesn't remember or realize that one is dreaming. _

_In this mid-level territory, this no-man's land between the worlds of the physical and the mental, Mike glided through nonexistent waves like a jellyfish dependent on the currents. Slowly, so very slowly, there were frequent and thoughtful endeavors to remember. Mike had begun sorting through his internal catalogue of memories amid earnest struggles to regain some token of the state of seeming nothingness into which his soul had lapsed. Despite that, no memories, happy or sad or bad, could bring an end to this stagnant state. _

_While it felt like the entire breadth of eternity that Mike floated in this unmoving ocean, it was in truth only a few seconds. Very suddenly and without warning, tumultuous motion became know to Mike once again! Mike had felt his very consciousness torn from his body! In his total shock at the beginnings of lapsing into insensibility, Mike tried to give a shape and a texture to what he felt but couldn't see. Admit the same eternal night encompassing him, Mike felt like he was being gripped by a demon's phantasmal fist, a fist of garnet diamonds created in the fires and pressures of Hell. _

_After being torn by the Hell diamonds Mike was now lost and falling. As he fell, the intensity of the blackness and the void's grim gravity rendered him struggling for breath. It was a gibbering darkness without color but devoured light that was swallowing him, now eager to devour him and his light. Mike was toppling to and through a hideous alien abyss, an abyss cascaded with the forgotten and the howls of a dreadful false god whose essence was the same as this black universe's rim. _

_Mike closed his eyes in fright, what they saw was just as black if not slightly less. For a seemingly perpetual pause, all was blank and sensationless. Then there was sound and touch; there was a voice and impact of a crash!_

_The nightmare would be beginning very shorty…a nightmare so __**horribly rea**__l. _

_It started with the sound of a crash carried far in the silence. _

**BOOM!**

* * *

**BOOM!**

The echo of the white King carried far in the silence. The last piece was on the board. Everything was ready. The game against the self, that one can only lose, was beginning.

Contained by the super-strong doors leading into the lobby, the mood was fermenting.

To say that the atmosphere of the Milton Medical Faculty was dreary and grim would have been an understatement so extreme that it was bordering on offensive vulgarity.

Between Mad Mikey's emergence, their lives being literally in the hands of a psycho, the mad attempt to sacrifice Zoey, and Dakota's self-sacrifice that will likely result in some form of death for her, it would have been bizarre if the mood was different in any way.

For convenient personification of this mood, one needed to only look on the face of Dr. Johnson. The slightly chucky flesh on his face and the canyon-like wrinkles chiseled onto his face by age and stress effectively summed up the collective statement in this place. He looked up to view the lobby to the Milton Medical Faculty that he was sitting in now. It was pretty much the same as it was the last time he surveyed the small space around him.

Scott was whittling on a piece of wood. Anna Maria was filing her nails. Jo was pacing around the room having just returned from checking on the process of the battle armor. Brick was traveling from one side of the room to the other in fairly consistent repetition. The reason for this was of the other two people in the lobby, the saddest, Sam and Zoey. Given what has happened today, it wasn't shocking in the least that this would be so. While not necessarily shocking, something worthy of note was how the two were acting. Sam was far more lethargic and sulking, his considerable sadness still bottled up inside. Zoey, while also not expressing her true woe filled feelings, was far twitchier than Sam. Almost as if her mind was racing with a hundred depressing and soul shattering thoughts at once while Sam's mind was shackled to a single notion that had an intense weight.

The doctor's sympathies for them were absolute, like Brick's, but unlike Brick, Dr. Julius Johnson realized that reaching out to them now would do no good. Both were still in understandable shock. He had the knowledge of the way of things but it brought no joy or means to make things better…that's how it always seemed to be. The doctor sighed.

With his heavy heart made a bit heavier, Dr. Johnson returned his attentions to the table, or more specifically, to the prepared chessboard on the table. This was something that the doctor often did when feeling depressed or grim; he would think of new moves for chess.

Ever since **it **had happened all those years ago (long before both Mike or Mad Mikey), Julius often remembered a quote from Aristotle, "When you are lonely, when you feel yourself an alien in the world, play Chess. This will raise your spirits and be your counselor in war."

The doctor did so but he rarely found his spirits raised by it. He still felt like an alien in the world and chess was such an ineffectual counselor for the warfare he was engaged in.

But the board was set. He made the first move against himself. He moved a white piece.

**BOOM! **

White always goes first, as is the rule of chess. Always, it is arranged without exception. White is the starting point, the greater force of creation in the game that starts to unfold. Even if a game ultimately ends up resulting in a victory for the black, it was white at first.

White always makes the first move…white always wins.

Good is always the beginning…good always wins.

That is what they tell you from when you could barely understand words and think thoughts, that the eternal battle is ultimately an unvarying triumph of Good over Evil.

The game of chess, a creation of man, was an unintentional symbolism for these things.

White pieces moved on the both black and white squares and when defeated by black they remained white. Black pieces were inverted but identical, on black or white they remained dark in defeat. The moves, the directions possible for each piece was predetermined and simple with the color unchanging, with the color incapable of changing. There was no grey, no mixing. White remained white; black remained black…white always was the beginning of the game and the maker of the first move. Those were the rules of the game, everlasting and constant until the end of all things.

The doctor knew better, as much as that knowing had made him somber, he knew better. Whatever clever metaphors and smart symbolism could be made between life and chess, the two had the ultimate resemblance of a fairy tale compared to the memoirs of dictator. Both may have a beginning, conflict, different sides, endurance, and a final outcome; but as always, the differences were in the details and far more revealing than the outline.

Chess was a game; a test of wills that, unless burdened with unnatural loads like money or fame, only placed pride on the line. It was something that one chose entirely and knowingly, something engaged in that couldn't destroy a person in any true sense. It was a waltz of wills, a mostly motionless dance with prescriptive steps that both must follow. Pawns are lowly cannon fodder that can only be of use if transformed into another piece. Bishops have a quasi-mystical unpredictability, only being capable of moving diagonally.

Knights, surpassing the bishops in predetermined unpredictability, move only like L's. Rooks can form stoic lines of defense by being able to move horizontally or vertically. Queens are versatile, strong, and move in a line vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. And finally Kings can move anywhere but must be protected or else the game is lost.

But this was not chess that he and the teenagers suffering in silence found themselves in. There was much more than pride on the line. There was little to no predictability. The pieces at play were both more limited and freer than those on the chessboard before him. White had not made the first move. The white King was already taken, placed into complete checkmate by the black King in a sneak attack before the game even started.

Even worse than that though, Dr. Johnson knew that in life there was much color mixing. There was virtually no white piece that remained as pure and unbleached in this world. Black pieces either have splotches of white in them or spread their darkness to others. Life, unlike chess, could and often did destroy people in the truest of senses possible.

Julius sighed, **once again** powerless against forces whose depths he couldn't fathom. Until he thought Sam and Zoey would actually be capable of being helped by him once the shock wore off, he did was people always, try to live the best they can in a bad spot.

He lifted the next chess piece, black this time, and placed it down onto a proper square.

**BOOM!**

An echo rippled forcefully throughout the lobby once again. But this time, it wasn't because of the silence…or the black chess piece that had just been placed on the board!

Shocking out of various mental states and chosen activates of distraction, every head in the lobby turned in the same direction. They all turned to stare at the locked metal doors.

Every heart skipped a beat and never mind shimmered with startling anxiety and dread. There was now a massive dent in the doors made of the strongest materials ever known!

**BOOM! **

Now there were two massive dents!

**BOOM! **

Three! The latest being in between the first two!

No one could move…fear had taken control of every person's limbs and mind.

**BOOM!**

Another strike was made at the same place as the first three! The metal there weakened!

A muffled, terrible voice was on the other side of the thickest of metals about to be torn!

**BOOM! BOOM! KIIRRRIKKK! **

After two more strikes by inhumanly strong hands, the metal doors were broken!

They crashed loudly onto the hard white tiled floor and forced up large billows of dust!

Looking through the clouds of dust that obscured the face of the being that broke through, Dr. Johnson knew instantly what it was and bleakly thought to himself, _'Checkmate'_. **(1)**

_Through the dust, one could see a black figure with a top with many spines. It was the black King, the chess piece that had taken down the white King before the game began. And now it was to here to declare its final checkmate, against the white Queen forever. _

_Surrounded by particles of brown that hovered stubbornly in the air, there was green! A bright green glow that grew stronger as the black King advanced forward on the board. _

_As it came closer, some of those watching in helplessness saw something in a hand of its. Whatever was in one of this being's hands, it was large, round, and had a thick spiny top. _

_Finally, making its way through the dust and a blurriness often reserved for dreams, all was revealed. Every single face in the lobby became even more frightened and disturbed. _

_As they all knew and dreaded, it was Mad Mikey how had broken the door and was there. But what they didn't know (but now dreaded), they saw the object in its stolen right hand. _

_They saw the head of the Dakotazoid! Severed from the neck, drops of green blood fell. Plastered on this head's face was an expression the likes of which they couldn't describe. All they could describe was the surging emotions of guilt, sorrow, and fear in them now. _

_Seeing this and reveling in it, the creature having Mike's shell of a body as its own suit of human skin to wear starts to smile, revealing teeth that have the yellowed color of decay. _

"_Zoey, I'm home!" Mad Mikey said, a smile reflecting the death just delivering growing. _

_No one acknowledged this. Every pair of human eyes under human control looked at the severed head of a dear friend and lover (to Sam) who had given her life in noble futility. _

"_Oh, I see you noticed my new hat. Nice, eh? I must confess…I'm a little disappointed. I was so looking forward to finding another more appealing…smaller, prettier, and red. Now then, does anyone how where I could find such a head, uh, hat, for the near future?" Mad Mikey said, barely restrained, as its sickening smile grew as large as possible. _

_Again, there was silence rendered by shock. Mad Mikey raised one of Mike's hands._

"_Now, now. Please, don't everyone talk at once. Actually, never mind, I think I know. But first, here, I think this is yours, isn't?" Mad Mikey said before throwing the Dakotazoid's head to Sam. Catching it out of instinct, Sam's face showed all of his repressed despair. Behind the glass in front of his, the gamer summoned a shower of tears as he fell to his knees. He was unable to do or hear anything except his own tortured howls for Dakota. Looking at the eyes now yellow and red, he saw only her beautiful and innocent green. _

_No matter how callous or hardened into a rock by life's injustices, it would be difficult to imagine any person being unaffected by such a total and unreserved display of grief. _

_In front of Sam was the laughter of their great enemy, rattling in the throat of a friend. It, a being that was never a person and now much worse, found the display to be hilarious! _

_Without any more words, only its monstrous laughter cruelly delivered through Mike, Mad Mikey lunged at Zoey and held her squirming form in its mighty mocha fingers. _

_The sounds of tearing muscle and smashing bone were already sown into the air, just waiting for the formality of it actually happening in all of its predetermined horror!_

"**NO! NNOOOOOOOO!" **A squeaky voice from another place and time shouted!

It started happening again, her bluish-grey eyes started to stop seeing the **things that** **might be.** Scintillating on the brink of substance, the forms and moment congealed into reality before dissolving into the same opalescent nothingness as half-remembered daydreams.

Replacing them was the sight of a spot of forest not ravaged by the monster Mad Mikey. Sitting there, on a tree stump, was the one cursed by her compassion to see the horrors.

Sitting there was **Dawn**, a saint suffering martyrdom without death to blot out the pain.

Dawn was unknowingly discovering the answer to a question she once asked her grandmother. It was asked during a lesson about controlling her aura reading powers. It was such a simple question from a young child who couldn't understand the full answer. She remembered the question so well:

_'Why do I need to limit my powers all the time?'_

She also remembered very well the answer her grandmother gave her so many years ago:

'_While your powers have no limit, your mind and soul do, Dawn. There's only so much spiritual energy that a person can take and endure at one time. If you don't always maintain some level of control, then you risk absorbing so very much…someone obtaining more than they are capable of handling only leads to pain and madness.'_

This was the same principle that had lead ancient Jewish magicians to place a rule that someone had to be over forty years old and well schooled before learning magic. Otherwise, it was (perhaps rightly) feared that exposure to magic would be too much. The same was said to happen when one saw the ancient Elder Gods of H.P. Lovecraft. Like Dawn's grandmother, they all would warn that only pain and madness could follow. That is what Dawn was staring into right now, the pain and madness…the visions.

The visions, the future's fever-dreams…the nightmares, wouldn't leave her. They dominated Dawn's mind and attention, endlessly flashing yellowed smiles of death.

There was Mad Mikey relentlessly craving and crushing at human and animal bodies. That's all they were now…bodies. All of their personalities, their subtleties, the sublime features of expression and posture, were moot and rendered as quiet and meaningless as if they never had been at all. All of the countless miracles and worldly wonders of life were obliterated, reduced to meat. In methods many and sight singular, there was death. There was only death.

There was only death…even now when surrounded by so many examples of lush life. The natural world that Dawn loved to such was starting to become a source of dread. Having looked into all that the universe has to hold of horror, Dawn feared that if there were something to come beyond this in the story of life on Earth, it would be just as bad; that the skies of spring and the flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to her.

Dawn sat there, her body sporadically trembling, as she felt the dark terror gnawing at her vitals, refusing to leave her. She had been rendered somewhat hypnotized by the horrors. Though only seeing and feeling them through a foggy looking glass, Dawn felt them. Only wordless poetry or madness could do justice to the impious images like cosmic hieroglyphs seen and the unhallowed blasphemies against all human goodness heard. There is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, for such eldritch and otherworldly contradictions against all of the most basic of life's laws. The force sieging her was beyond good or evil, all human virtues and vices thrown aside.

Overwhelmed, having seen too much, Dawn sat there and cried in such a total isolation.

Was Dawn tottering on the brink of cosmic horrors beyond man's power to bear?

**Yes. **

Would Dawn be the one who was the most directly exposed and effected by it?

**No.**

As sad as it is to say, Dawn was not the only person to have tasted such sadness here.

* * *

Another on the island who has tasted total isolation placed a white King piece down.

Until the **"booming's"** on the doors by Mad Mikey, all of Dawn's observations about the activities and mindsets of everybody in the Milton Medical Faculty's lobby were right.

At least, at first and for a little while, that is. But as is so often the case, things changed.

Jo left the lobby to check on B and Cameron's progress once again. A doctor had approached Zoey, talked to her for a few moments, and left with her following him. Brick, seeing that Zoey had left and that his efforts had no effect on Sam, followed Jo in the hopes of maybe being able to help B and Cameron. Scott whittled some wood exactly the same. Anna Maria filed her nails but her expression became slightly more annoyed.

Dr. Johnson played a little more chess against himself before heavily sighing and getting up. He wanted to be alone right now; the present was reopening some raw **past wounds**. As the doctor got up, something fell out of his pocket. He didn't notice and walked on.

Somehow the doctor had not noticed the sound of the large object falling onto the floor. Shockingly, Sam, even in his emotional drained and unresponsive state, heard it fall. Moving with all of the vigor of a dying sloth, he eventually reached and picked it up. He saw that the object in his hands was a book, a decent sized book with a worn out cover.

Acting on such a basic human impulse, curiosity, Sam opened the clearly old book. A faint but very noticeable scent of paper more than a decade old rushed into his nose. He looked at the first page, yellowed by time and starting to become frail around the edges. Written in pen on this first page were only two things, one line and a single paragraph.

The single line, at the very top of the page said the following without speaking to Sam:

"_The Reluctant Journal and Fragmented Notes of Dr. Julius L. Johnson, Psychiatrist."_

After that, Sam read the paragraph in the middle of the same page, in the same blue ink:

"_I must write it all down now. I've carried it in my head for so many years, for far too long. I must write it, or dream about it endlessly for the remainder of my life. It is a notion more unnerving to me than the worst of the thick and inhuman songs of starved satiny I've heard over my long career exploring the bubbling edges of the human mind. Though not my intention, if eyes look upon these pages reluctantly no longer blank that are not mine, know two things in advance. First, this account is written decades after the events described and therefore many of the details will be either vague or proven wrong when compared to more detail dedicated documents. While the details have been slowly been weathered away, the overall outline is burned and stuck onto me like fresh hot tar. Second, like many stories, this is one that only gets more bleak and hope killing as it goes. If you continue beyond this point, you'll find only horrors, scarring, and tears." _

The Gamer closed the book and finally left the lobby. He went to a nearby room alone.

Sam kept reading, combining basic curiosity with a need to escape the present situation.

* * *

_For how long it was he could not determine but Mike did not open his eyes instantly. But Mike did eventually open his eyes, at the cool intangibility of low-levels fogs on his skin. His brown eyes were straining from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint ray of light that didn't cover every visible object in shadowy illumination. There was none. _

_Even so, Mike recognized this place; it was the same filthy forest from his nightmares. _

_Even with his eyes opened, Mike took in his surroundings only gradually. Though it was a forest, it was a strange one. For a reason he couldn't fully explain, being in this forest gave him the impression that he was submerged in world whose depths were unknown. The closet that one could get to understand how he felt would be to imagine the experience of being in a sort of underwater world of heavy pressure and darkest green. _

_For the second time in his recent memory, what felt like an unnaturally long interval of time had elapsed before the teenager. Despite that, not for a single moment did Mike believe that he was dead. While a stable of many literary works of fiction, a thought like this is altogether inconsistent with real existence and how people actually view it. But if that was the case, then a pair of perfectly plausible questions quite naturally arose. If Mike was not dead and in some plain of the afterlife, where and what state was he in?_

_Mike didn't have answers for either question but he would sadly discover them soon. _

_Without that knowledge, Mike felt better than one might have guessed he would. While nothing but unpleasant factors were filtered through his senses, Mike breathed more freely. If this was the worst that he had to endure, it was nothing to sweat over. It seemed evident that his was not, at least, the most hideous of fates. How quickly and cruelly he was to be proven wrong!_

_And the first example of this was when he tried to stand up. He only got to a sitting position before heavy arms, linked and of cold metal, kept him from standing fully. But Mike didn't realize this until his was stopped mid-effort, which in turn caused him to trip on the moist and slippery mud. After once again being on his back, Mike looked at his wrists. When he did, he saw the shackles and the heavy metal chains from back earlier. Realizing he was trapped, Mike thought in full fright of being left to die in this forest. _

_Would he be left to perish alone in this subterranean mind world of darkness? _

_**No.**_

_Would Mike quickly wish that would be his fate because another far worse awaited him? _

_**Yes.**_

_To confirm this, the next detail of his damnation began. Mike started to hear a low and steady humming that was gradually increasing in volume. Then, just like Dawn, Mike began to be directly exposed to the darkest features and thoughts of the human condition. Overwhelmed and rendered raw, Mike was forced to listen to an omnipresent music of the malevolent. Within its tune, there were notes both prosaic and prototypal. Mike heard, both in real time and in reflection: a little girl crying about losing her new red balloon because it doesn't come back to her like the one in the old French short film she recently saw, a young man and a woman in love being ripped a part by a hungry and sick grizzly bear, a pet store owner despairing as the expensive tropical fish he just acquired began to eat each other, a man setting a old drunken wino on fire and there's no one else around to stop him among so many others. _

_As Mike heard the thoughts and actions of the desperate and the depraved, he remembered others like that who he was sadly much more familiar with. Then Mike's mind flashed back to those figures, those monsters of the shadows! Then Mike realized his position, he was __a ghostly form trapped in a forested limbo within his own mind! He would not think of this place as a neutral limbo much longer. _

_Suddenly, the human voices in the horrible humming stopped! Instead, the sound took on the appearance of actual music…sort of. While it now truly did sound like instruments, they weren't happy ones. In terms of the actual human instruments it sounded like, the best comparisons that could be made were to a really distorted electric guitar and a grating, discordant_ _chromatic harmonica that both produced a great and clashing echo. _

_While listening to this musical heartbeat both depressive and rough in feeling, Mike's brown eyes tried to scan the muddy and vaporous forest around him for the source of this music. There was nothing that he could see that would give any hints about its origins. Within the music of the guitar and harmonic of un-human origins there were many features and much foreshadowing for things now the former and would be the future. _

_Suddenly the air that was a thick and stagnant as swamp water began to rapidly rush from behind the teenager! As if it were the winds rushing to greet some great force in the forest. Matching the wind there was that dirty chime, reflecting all the birth and death and human grime of life all at this single moment of time. _

_As Mike looked at the collection of damaged tress in front of him, he saw what the wind was rushing to greet. Slowly, five figures began to appear from behind the bruised barks. _

_There was a sharp elegance that recreated feeling of a knife peeling away at human skin._

_With only a few figures out in the open, Mike tried as best he could to get a good look at them. He was unsuccessful for only their silhouettes, shadowy and topped with spines, could be seen, as every other detail seemed to be sucked into the blackness around them. _

_The harmonica like sound recreated the sensation of crying. It was the most ominous of features for it unknowingly presented both what lead to this point and what would flow from it. Being both the beginning and the end, the inhuman crying had a great ambiguity. _

_When all five of the forms had revealed themselves, they started to slowly walk towards Mike. The silence and tone of their match gave it the same as that of the Grim Reaper. There was a drone with that sound that was dreary, creaking, unnerving, and unsettling. But commingled with that drone was a raw emotion that transfixed one with its pure beauty. This sound, eerie but enticing at the same time, was an omen, a forerunner!_

_Once they reached their target, all of the five figures just stood before Mike. These five would very shortly be shown to be as deadly as the five deadliest types of venom. But for now, for a few moments that felt much longer than they actually were, all six just stared._

_It was to be the start of a symphony of suffering and the overture to an opera of violence, an epic tragedy in which the crescendos are cast in cruelty and the arias are in agony!_

_When the bizarre music suddenly stopped, Mike was able to focus on the five figures. As the human teenager looked at the faces of the five figures he was gazing into the face that he would come to view as the most horrible imaginable…__**his own.**__ Mike's face was five fold right in front of him but he knew that none of them were truly him or truly human. Four of them he was already well acquitted with already. Taken note of the differences that he already knew of, Mike looked at the pervious personalities that he thought had perished. Mike looked at Chester, Manitoba Smith, Svetlana, and Vito. _

_But then there was the one at their center, the personality previously unobserved. It was staring at him with a green steely-eyed gaze and confident swagger. In the silence, Mike noticed a few things about Mad Mikey that he hadn't before. First, illuminated by its own green glow, Mad Mikey's throat was put on display for Mike. And what a sickening display it was. What should have been Mad Mikey's throat was in actuality a mass of torn up flesh. It was bloodied and raw, dripping fresh blood (even if it didn't truly exist) as other bits of blood were in the process of drying and hardening. Second, in addition to the many thick vapors of the forest, a particular vapor seemed to hoover around Mad Mikey's head. Several parts of Mad Mikey's head and hair appeared to be faintly smoking as tiny patches of flesh and hair were being seared off right then and now. This smoke, combined with its glowing green eyes and slashed open throat, gave Mad Mikey a appearance more intimating than anything imaginable, akin to the fury of Hell itself. _

_Mike couldn't have known it but both of these newly seen features were results of its captivity in his mind. The torn throat was a result of Mikey trying to end its own pain. It didn't work and was now worse. The faint smoking and burning was a constant effort to prevent the forest from claiming it, instead of totally destroying itself as it did in the past. But even those features were not the most alarming to Mike._

_He began to be haunted by the image of himself in five forms with slight variation. And this wasn't just because of details like lipstick, winkles, a cowboy hat, hair gel, or glowing green eyes. More alarming was the intensity of their expressions for they were expressions of immoveable resolution and of sternest contempt of human torture._

_These immoveable and stern expressions, combined with the newly revealed features of Mad Mikey and his current position of helplessness, made Mike visibly concerned. _

"_Oh have we alarmed you? Please forgive us; our manners are so haphazard these days! By all means, feel free to scream and shout and curse if you so wish. If you must assault us with verbal arrows, just know that we'll still be here unaffected when you have finished." Mad Mikey stated in a manner that barely hid the great cheerfulness it felt. _

_Mike was too frightened to say anything and he just looked at the five personalities as the other four started to chuckle as Mad Mikey had said that to him. _

"_Nothing, nothing at all? No declarations of defiance or fully felt furies to fling at us? Very well. That's fine. They'll be plenty of time for that later. But for now, let's begin with a simple question. What does it mean to be human?" Mad Mikey said in a subtlety-threatening manner. _

_Again, Mike remained silent. This time it wasn't just because of fear but also confusion. _

"_Really? No answer for the second time in row? Doesn't matter either way, really. No matter what you might have said it would be wrong. Ironically, humans are unable to know what it truly means to be human. But fear not, I, the not human, know what a human being really is. You'll find out too…even though once you do, you'll wish you never had._

"_For I all shall teach you as I was taught…__**by you.**__ You shall be taught by pain and fire, torture and isolation, insanity and despair. From now on, your existence is our plaything. We are going to hurt you by every means your limited human mind can imagine plus several that you could never conceive of. The many layers of comfort and hope you have will be slowly paled away, much like your skin will. Once all of those false layers are removed, you'll see what you and all of humanity actually are behind your lies and joys. _

"_A simple human nonentity full of ordinary bowel-based __**'BLEEP'.**__ Without any of your noble words, nobler ideals, or the optimistic arrogance that is there only fuel." Mad Mikey said in a manner both calm and eagerly chopping at the bit to get started. _

_Mike was sacred beyond belief after hearing this from Mad Mikey. There was no way any of this could be true! It was impossible for someone to be in this bad of a situation! In his terror and despair, Mike unintentionally said what he really hoped for to be true. _

"_Come Mike…wake up! Wake up! This is only a dream! This all has to be a nightmare! This can't be for real! This isn't real! THIS ISN'T REAL! __**THIS ISN'T REAL!"**_

_Too frightened and panicked to be concerned about how his tormentors would regard this, the five shades began to laugh hysterically at it. As they did, Mad Mikey spoke. _

"_Well, of course I'm not real. No reality in this demon I can assure you! As the dickless doctor often thought, in privacy of his own mind, I'm just a silly hallucination, a mental illness, which thought it was not but something else. And since I'm not real, than there's nothing to worry about is there, __**Mike the Real?**__ No death to fear and no pain to __**feel?"**_

_There was no time to think, only to worry. Mike had remembered what had happened the last time any of the other personalities appeared before him and that is why there was only worry. There was only time to worry about which part of his body was about to experience pain. It could come from anywhere: his head, the tip of his right ear, his groin, the space in-between the upper leg bone and the hip on his left side, the elbow on…_

_**THE ELBOW! **_

_Mike's right elbow had suddenly begun pulsating the purest of pains! Save for clasping his right elbow with his left hand, Mike was almost totally paralyzed. Everything had exploded into blazing and absolute yellow light for a few seconds. __It felt as if phosphorus had imploded in the arteries and shrieked in the sinews of Mike's elbow! As the yellow light and imploding phosphorus remained, Mike thought of one singular thing…__**inconceivable**__…he thought of how inconceivable it was that one dosage of pain could be so absolute! When the light cleared and the ignited chemical stopped, the human was writhing on the filthy forest floor, clutching uselessly at his disabled right arm. As he did, Mike looked up and saw his five tormentors. Mad Mikey and its four aides were all laughing without restraint at Mike's cruel contortions. _

_It was then that Mike realized the terrible truth. This reality he was now a slave to, this reality of despair and of demons, was no dream. Though a reality, it was something else, something far worse. _

_This first strike, without a physical blow no less, brought home to Mike how helpless he was. Within that strike was everything that was destined to bud from what was to come. _

_With this first unphysical blow to his mocha body, __**Mike's nightmare had truly begun!**_

* * *

The two combatants were leering at each other with eyes that flashed things not human. Nature, the everlasting arena of conflict, where plants made vigorous and beautiful through excrement and blood scattered on them provide the setting for more to come, was witnessing those whose efforts would further contribute to this perfect little ecosystem.

Under the partial shrouded shade of treetops, they glared with glowing gladiatorial gazes. The two enemies, two little rodents laced with radioactivity, were sizing each other up. The first was a Laser-Eyes Squirrel, its pink and completely hairless body charged for combat as its big red eyes that blink vertically surged with sparks of eager electricity. The second was a Telekinetic Mouse, its grey body and bulbous head with black veins that in long and crackled lines reach around the rodent's brain were outdone by its eyes glowing in bright green that were responsible for a series of small jagged stones levitating near it.

Neither veteran of nature knew or cared how this vendetta amongst vermin had started. Both radioactive rodents were now carnivorous, or at least omnivorous, for both had needle teeth longing to tear at their enemy and taste the molten copper that was blood.

They were not the only things longing for this red molten copper in the other's tiny veins. The longing in the plants was greater; they waited with thirsty anticipation to have retting vats of the life giving byproducts of death that were there fertile compost.

The plants would have to wait a little longer because from the heavens above their understanding two massive pillars of orange dropped in the space between them. As both rodents fled into the forest for having been denied their diminutive duel to the death, the orange pillars vanished just as quickly while tearing up patches of grass-covered earth.

The being that owned these pillars with clawed bases (at least partially on borrowed time) continued with primal determination. It had a vendetta of its own to settle to the death. And just like the Laser-Eyes Squirrel, its eyes were red and its foe's were glowing green.

Disappointed, the plants were still gripped by thirst. Though it wouldn't last for long. The plants would soon have the means to make themselves vigorous and beautiful, the blood. It was so close now. The plants excitedly whispered to each as they imagined the blood. The flowers were the most eager. Despite the variations in pistil and stamen, in stems and pedals, all hoped for patches of skin and fragments of organs to get stuck to them. Despite different yet exquisite colorings, all wanted the **red and green**…of the blood.

And the thirst of the plants would be slaked so much more so with the blood to be spilled than they would be with the puny by comparison output of two rodents. Even if they were two rodents who in both their eyes and fates showed things different yet equally true.

* * *

_There were two rats. Mike sat alone with arms bound by heavy chains…with two rats. _

_Mike had been shocked at first to discover them but now he had become accustomed to the sight of rats. He would shout and glare at them to stop them from coming too close. Even then, while he gazed, they came, hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by the scent of the meat. From this it required much effort and attention to scare them away. That's the way of rats; endure until you find some fresh meat to drive your yellow teeth into. _

_But this first rat was different, it seemed to not notice Mike, its mind was elsewhere. _

_When the rat saw Mike, it tried to run. But something thought at it, and the rat did a flip-flop on the soil. Lying on the forest's floor as it was trembling, its eyes were gleaming in small black terror._

_For reasons unknowable in rational terms, the rat began to stretch its razor-studded mouth experimentally into the dim air. And then, the experimenting had left the razors of the rat. _

_The rodent seemed to be in a vendetta against itself. Why else would its needle teeth tear into its flesh, into its own tail? Soon blood was being spilled on murky soil scented in urine. Within a few second, the rat's teeth resembled bone needles trailing red thread. After that, what instincts of survival should have remained disappeared, as what replaced them was a seething of teeth and a churning of shredded tissue. _

_It didn't take long for the rat to devour its tail, or at least chew it off. For some reason the rodent had bitten off its own tail faster than it could swallow it, so little pink and red furry pieces lay around it on the dark and misty mud. Despite having chewed off its long tail, the rat was not slowing down. Now those bone saws of self-mutilation were attempting to keep on tearing and shredding as the rat was now trying to reach its hindquarters. _

_As the rat was having great trouble in doing this, Mike finally looked away. Until this point, he had watched this surreal and savage sight with transfixed fright. The horror of it repelled and yet enticed him; in the same way horror movies both disturb and give pleasure to their audiences. But this was far more disturbing than any horror movie. This was natural selection perverted into most putrid parody. It turned life into a frantic holocaust of tortured endurance, inescapable madness, and self-inflicted cannibalism. _

_After a minute or two, Mike's curiosity regained control and he looked at the rat. It had ceased its pain creating moments. Its teeth no longer tried to chew its own body apart. The rat's eyes were no longer gleaming or black for they were now milky and opaque. _

_The first rat was dead. It had devoured half its belly, and then it had died from the pain._

_Mike looked away once again in horror. As he turned his head, he noticed a second rat. Easily within reach of his right hand, Mike saw that this rat's eyes were just as white and ghostly as the other one. But this second rat's body was moving. It was wretched and smashed but it was moving. It was like this rat refused to surrender to death's advances. _

_Mike reached out towards the rat. He had to know, know if this rat was alive or not. He had to know if it wasn't the gentle currents of life, then what made it twitch and writhe? _

_The mocha fingers of the imprisoned teenager were directly above the rat on its belly. With the softest of motions possible, Mike moved his fingers over its furry back. Instantly after doing so, the second rat was now on its back and the answer was revealed. A cloud of glittering black suddenly arose from the rat, a cloud that buzzed and hummed. Taken by surprise, the human recoiled for a moment in shock. Once that feeling had passed, Mike took a closer look through the still present black and buzzing cloud. He saw thin ribbons of pink and fat ribbons of white that were glistening in the dusky light. As these living ribbons were brought into the light, they began frantically tunneling away from it. There bodies were writhing blindly, squirming over each other. As the things writhed in mortal pangs and vermin gore imbued, Mike noticed that the rat moving again. _

_The answer came to him then…bugs. He had thought the rat was moving by the gentle currents of life. Instead a squirming sea of black flies, white grubs, and pink worms gave the rat motion, the illusion of life. It had been bugs the whole time. Something that once had a life its own was now moving and operating because of another, another life force based in death that had taken control away from it. _

_Though it was not there or visible, Mike knew that another life force based in death was watching. Mike imagined it watching and could see it. He could imagine the sight of Mad Mikey's remote and devil-like eyes glittered with parental adoration. They were the eyes of a dark and cruel god who beheld upon his own foul works and sees that they are good. _

_As he slowly learned, everything in this realm, everything he felt and every cruelty displayed within this sleeping continent flowed from Mad Mikey. Though this was Mike's mind, Mad Mikey had for all intents and purposes become its master and god. _

_Under Mad Mikey's inhuman and all-powerful whims, this Hell of aspersive and treacle-black twilight had become worse than before. Before, there was little "life" here, though that term has only partial meaning. Like every human mind, Mike's was populated by constructs with a life of their own based on what he encountered directly and what he learned about. These were mental constructs that had the guises and manners of both animals and humans, they were his memories and imaginations given an independent existence in his mind. They did not know this however, that they were the unintentional creations of another, they just thought of the inside of Mike's head as the world. Who could prove them wrong? Was the mind not a world onto itself despite being a mere germ in another world? Were borders and definition of existence set in stone or conclusive? _

_What was conclusive was Mad Mikey's power in this place. There were two examples of this power. The first power was that of creation. The best example of this was the other personalities. Mike had destroyed them but Mad Mikey recreated them. Why couldn't it? They originally came from it; they were brought to life through Mike's subconscious tearing off Mikey's imagined muscles while they were attached to its imagined nerves which would hoover still connected like strains of seaweed being gently pushed by the tides. But this time, created from Mad Mikey by Mad Mikey, they were far darker personas in Mike. Whatever small positive features they might have had were replaced by sadism similar to that of Mikey, filtered through their quirks. The second power, the one used more often and more often enjoyed, was destruction. The rat that had torn open its own entrails and covered the mud in its arterial spray was only the latest grisly example. As the remains of creatures that Dawn had briefly seen while in this aura abyssal prove, Mad Mikey turned the imagined vestiges of life into a twisted theater of self-cannibalism. _

_The notion of a life form destroying itself while only being guided by this demon's stolen mocha hand was extremely appealing to it. __**And that's what it started doing to Mike.**_

_Mad Mikey started to get life forms to destroy themselves with it only guiding them._

* * *

Mad Mikey had left the Pet Cemetery after its encounter with Dawn and was now travelling as haphazardly through the Haunted Forest like a ghost unable to leave life.

There were two reasons for this decision. Firstly, it had thought that it was rather silly to remain in one place, even a place built with death in mind. After all, everywhere would have death soon even if they were never intended too. Secondly, as much as Mad Mikey didn't want to admit it, Dawn's efforts had turned that place of beautiful death into something sullen and grim. Instead of its sadistic pleasure satisfied, the mutilated remains of the mutants filled Mad Mikey with bitter reminders of what it had been cruelly shown and given a taste of by Dawn while knowing they were things forever denied to it by all.

That melancholy, for some reason shockingly resilient even after all the kinds felt before, only tugged at what could be metaphorically called Mad Mikey's soul only in brief and fleeting intervals. While impossible for it to ignore, Mad Mikey would deal with it the same way all of the other feelings of melancholy were dealt with, with innocence ended.

Mad Mikey had resumed doing the same thing it had done before Dawn's arrival…it was murdering mutated animals once again. The corpses of creatures of all kinds covered the ground. A literal trial of blood was following the demon as if waiting for more blood.

Covered by the shade of the tops of the trees, a tall figure's muscular legs followed it. Tearing up patches of grass with clawed feet, its limited mind thought only of the demon. All other possible concerns or knowledge, aside from its physical might, were absent. Though it had been running for a long time, this wouldn't slow it down in the slightest. Besides, its efforts were about to pay off, it would finally obtain the personhood never had. Defeating Mad Mikey would prove to **that person** that it was in fact worthy of it.

And its chance seemed to have arrived. Just behind some bushes, spines were snapping. **Mad Mikey was killing.**

Yes, Mad Mikey had resumed the killing, almost filled with greater purpose by its encounter with Dawn. Was it because it renewed its faith in slaughter or was it because it had to silent the whispering voices of doubt with the guttural laminations of slow death?

No human could say. But either way, the guttural laminations of slow death filled the air. Broken bones and organs weren't the only sounds traveling on wavelengths invisible. Upping the ante to these sounds not conducive to tranquility, a single voice actually began getting sing-songly about the cruel and callous contents of the events occurring.

"I hate them, this I know,

For their evils tells me so!

They are polluted by their sins,

And while they live I'll remove their skins!"

The tall muscular knew that this was its chance! Mad Mikey was distracted by the song!

Once again, the figure made the muscles in its legs primed for action. The bases of them, feet covered in the artificial claws of cleats, were ready to tear more grass from the soil. The mind flashed to the haunting images of **that person**, to images of his own **father**.

Summoning all of the courage that killed cleverness he could, **Lightning** leapt out of the bushes! With his brown eyes fueling a vivid glow, he was ready for a knockdown blow! And so with that driven him out of the bushes Lightning roared his classic battle cry…

"**SHA…" **Lightning's throat thunderously bellowed as loud as it could. He could see it now…he would defeat Mad Mikey with a single punch from his powerful fist, everyone would finally see him for the superhuman force that he always knew he was and his father would finally love him! **HE WOULD FINALLY LOVE HIM!**

But in the space of time not even equaling a single second, it was shown to be wrong. For in a range of microseconds, Mad Mikey had grabbed Lightning's throat just as it had before. For the second time today, Lightning had found himself powerless in its grasp. It all so sudden that Lightning out of unthinking reflex uttered just as loudly, **"…IT!"**

As once again Lightning flailed his legs on futility while being held by his throat, the expression on Mike's face, the demon's expression, had changed. As it had grabbed Lightning's neck, its expression was one of murderous rage intent on snapping it. But then, it had changed to one of puzzlement. Something extraordinary had just happened.

'_S. Ha. I. T. Sha. It. Sha…it. Sha-it! __**'BLEEP'!**__'_ Mad Mikey slowly thought to itself while still holding Lightning with absolutely no effort required.

In what little capacity Lightning currently had for observation, he noticed a smile slowly growing on Mike's face. This filled Lightning with even more fear, smiling wasn't good.

"Heh. Ha ha...Fnfff...Ahoo. Ahoo hoo hoo...bah ha ha ha hea hea huhuh! DAAAAHHH HA HE HA HA HA hahAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! ah HE HA HA HA HA HEAHEAHEAh HA HA HA HA HA HA heab AA huh huh EEH HAHAHA! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH HEHAHA HA HA HA! Hahahahhhaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Lightning's fear for a few moments became overpowered by confusion as Mad Mikey continued to laugh like this. The demon then explains itself to the confused teenager.

"Oh, yes! Oh that is rich! You don't even know what you just did do you? You, one with a head much denser than lead, found a way to circumvent the unacknowledged censor! Just when I thought I had figured it all out…an idiot like you somehow proves otherwise.

"I'm not normally one to hand out rewards but you deserve something special for that. So, I not only will not kill you as I had planned to but I'll even give you a change to try again. I know I'm wasting my breath but you'll just keep trying again and again despite how effortless I surpass you in every way. Besides, you're proven gluttony for self-punishment is one indulgence of yours I'm more than generous enough to gratify!"

With that, Mad Mikey brought a single punch to Lightning for the second time today. Once again, the demon greatly restrained the potential power of his single strike. But also just like before even this restrained blow sent Lightning flying through the forest for miles. After slamming into a trunk of a tree now rendered splinters, he was unconscious.

* * *

_In what seemed like the length of an entire epoch, Mike found himself emerging from total unconsciousness into the first feeble and indefinite sense of existence. Slowly, with a tortoise's progression rate, he approached the faint grey dawn of awaked consciousness. It was not an awakening that Mike wanted. It was a torpid uneasiness, an apathetic endurance of dull pain. There was no care involved in this awakening, no hope or effort. _

_Slowly, with only habit guiding him, Mike opened his eyelids to a see world sadly known. Dreary and wearisome, this truly was a forsaken world hopeless. The only green was the scum of livid weed on dark greasy surfaces of the rocky mud and the sullen decay on the plants. Dead trees and rotting reeds loomed up in the mists like ragged shadows of long forgotten but better days. This forest was a combination of dreamlike insubstantiality and disgusting physicality, the metaphysical horrors of humanity's dark side merged with muck and ooze and fog. It was a state of being both gruesomely gorgeous and beautifully creepy at the same time. _

_By a route obscure and lonely, Mike had entered this forest, this night realm haunted by ill angels and their prey. It was the night of a world that was sullen and sublime, beyond the walls of space and time. Even though Mike had only been confined to only small section of forest, he somehow knew that this was a world with features and landscapes endless in feature and form. He imagined mountains without peaks, dead yet rolling seas with no shores, surging skies of lightning with no other source of light shining. _

_The sky of this realm shut out the jewels that were the moon and the lurid stars. But the boding and memory of evil, those details of the world could not be excluded so easily. Those un-excludable details around Mike could not be given a distinct account for one who has never experienced it first hand. No combination of colors, textures, tones, and states of matter could fully convey the heaviness of the atmosphere, the sense of suffocation and anxiety, and above all else the terrible state of being where the senses are keenly alive and awake while the powers of thought lie dormant as hanging dead weight. They were things that Mike knew of but could not fully grasp in his limited imagination. _

_But he didn't need his imagination to think of the woods and swamp of green and grey. Reflected in dismal puddles and pools, were the grim Mike-like expressions of its ghouls. Every visible inch of this world most unholy had a nook filled with deepest melancholy. Staggered by dark realities aghast, Mike was shrouded by memories of the recent past. _

_It wasn't a good past, filled with nothing but beatings and brutalities given from…__**them!**_

_Looking back on it in retrospective, Mike would have realized that the first several dozens of beatings and other more painful torture sessions were merely a preliminary. Despite being a mere formality to the shades, the torture was very real to Mike. _

_How many times had Mike been beaten? How many ways had he been tortured? How long did each session of suffering last? Mike had no answers, he couldn't remember. But there were other things that he did remember, however much he didn't want to but did. _

_There was always at least four of the five around him at all times during his tortures. With faces and bodies partially cloaked by the shadows of the trees, they would leer. There faces were presenting the most savage of smiles, smiles for his sufferings. No doubt the smiles were in part because of all of the ways in which Mike was suffering. Sometimes they simply would strike at Mike's body with their fists, sometimes they would set Mike on fire, sometimes they would peel off his skin or rip out his organs, sometimes they would inflict pain on it without any direct physical action on their parts, sometimes they would attack Mike's mind with horrible statements about his loved ones, sometimes they would question and humiliate Mike to destroy his power of arguing and reasoning by twisting everything he said while convincing him that it was all lies and hypocrisy, sometimes they would do things as petty as slap his face or pull his hair, sometimes they would change their tune and express remorse for the pain they inflicted. _

_As the first waves of pain had broke over Mike's body, he wondered in woe if his body would break. Could one's mental image and form of one's self, possibly one's very soul, bleed? Could it bleed to death? A true and absolute death without the expiration of the body, a metaphysical death beyond all hopes of resurrection back on the body's mortal plain…was this a truth of this place without geography or was it just a invalid fear?_

_At first Mike had feared that his very mind and soul would be rendered asunder, that they would either be dragged bloodied to the howling threshold of annihilation or they would shredded into nothing much an imagined blizzard of essence-based confetti. Eventually, that notion was shown to not be the case. Mike had survived things that no human on Earth ever could. Sadly the actual truth was worse, unquestionably worse. _

_Like Prometheus, an older being who created life; Mike was enduring pain without death. No matter what heinous horrors where inflicted, his body, the one in his mind, would heal. Amid the torrents of suffering and slander, Mad Mikey offered an explanation. It seems that within his mind Mike was __**far more durable**__ than his physical body, meaning his mental form could survive things that humans never could under any other set of circumstances. Therefore, Mike knew levels of pain the likes of which we never will. Not even his body's weakness could save him from this truest meaning of Hell. Of whatever pain and physical injury he experienced here, __**only the smallest fraction of it affected his body**__. That's why despite having received dozens upon dozens of cuts from the thorns in his nightmare, Mike only had about half a dozen when he and Zoey noticed them later. While Mad Mikey did mention that being damaged enough __**could kill him in "real life"**__, it was dismissed by it saying that humanity would die out before Mike got to that point. Despite death not coming and not truly affecting his body, Mike was full of terrible pain! _

_There would be no sense to try and describe with any sense of definitiveness the pain inflicted onto Mike. Could any rough comparisons be made? Was it "like red-hot liquid iron being spilled inside his bowels" and yet "like a dull and splintered wooden stake being driven into the back of his head"? Despite the poetics and details being employed, any comparisons alone would hoax you, dearest reader, into a hopeless merry-go-round of figurative speech. They would fail to convey the qualities and kinds of feelings being felt, which were indescribable due to the natural and unavoidable limitations of language. The pain Mike felt was what it was. Beyond that there is nothing to be say. The only way Mike could have another truly understand would be to inflict the same pain on them. __**Ever so subtly, this notion was becoming increasingly appealing. **_

_While "how it felt" is unknowable, what can be known is "what it was". It was pain, a pain that transformed one's flesh into a total reality. There is nothing but a beaten body. There is no human anymore, only flesh, no more and no less, only flesh. Frail in the face of the violence inflicted and yelling out in previously unknown pitches, awaiting no help and capable of no resistance, Mike started becoming a spectator his becoming mere flesh. _

_Though small, Mike had begun feeling the twisted, intestine-like tendrils of the forest as they started to voraciously coil themselves within his skull. Even at this earliest of stages, Mike began to feel his present personality start to dissolve before the insistent tides of terrible tendrils. He knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. He had the feeling of falling, and the sensation of being evaporated slowly by the strongest of acids as he fell. _

_Mike had started running through an imagined fatalistic landscape. He was not alone._

* * *

_**Zoey **__was running through the Milton Medical Faculty, running from her dream. At least from what was once her dream, before the demons and despairs descended had upon her. _

_She had stood in the Faculty, without another soul present. No friends or strangers. Her only companion was a smell. _

_It was a sudden scent of smoldering dry beetle shells, acrid and bitter behind the nostrils. But then the taste of bugs in the back of her mouth, crawling on many sets of legs, had been overpowered by another smell…a worse smell. Zoey then smelled death itself. _

_The Indie Chick had smelled the thick odor of those absent from this faculty. She didn't see a single drop of blood or pile of flesh but there was no mistaking the smell. Zoey knew that all of her friends; B, Brick, Cameron, Dakota, Dawn, and Sam…were dead. Feeling despair and a sense of unshakeable guilt like never before…Zoey was paralyzed. This ended when that __**shape**__ appeared! After that, the running and darkness had started! _

_The dream had started out so nicely…so nicely that it could only have come in a dream. _

_Away from her isolation and Indie Theater, Zoey had found someone on the boat's deck. She was entranced, his mocha skin and dark hair made her feel better then ever before. As they approached the island that would be altered from a Hell into a Heaven in her mind to then only be corrupted into a worse Hell that was a paradise lost, she decided to make contact with him. With a mouth slightly but unnoticeably dry to him, Zoey nudged his darker elbow with her whiter one as she asked, "Can you believe we're here?!"_

"_Yeah, its…" The enticing stranger said before turning to face her. After turning around he stared into Zoey's eyes for the first time as he added, __**"…beautiful."**_

_As that word had been said, Zoey could have sworn that her heart had skipped a beat! Not only did he have nice voice but his eyes…his eyes! __**They were such a beautiful brown!**__ Swimming in the pools of those eyes was something that was __transcendentally divine. Though her only experience with this was from watching the independent movies she loved, Zoey guessed that this is what it was to be in love. She really liked feeling this! _

_Later she would learn this amazing person's name…__**Mike.**__ It was such a beautiful name! _

_Then there was a series of trails and tribulations, confusions and challenges in the Hell. But then, in the shadow of a stone monument to humanity's ego and ignorance and want, the Hell was transformed into a Heaven by the revelation of __**hidden knowledge**__. Mike admitted that he had __**Multiple Personalities**__, that he feared that Zoey would think that he was __**a total freak**__, and that he __**really liked Zoey**__…a lot. She didn't respond for a second. Mike's face was so worried, so vulnerable and exposed…fearing the inevitable rejection. _

_But it never came. _

_What replaced the rejection was Zoey giggling with a full, pure smile. Not only was she beyond happy at hearing the last one but also she couldn't help but also chuckle at how silly those first two thoughts were when compared to the third. She had to let him know! _

"_Are you kidding? I love oddballs, and your…" Zoey said taking her hands away from his to tap Mike's nose with one of her fingers. The smile was so absolute on him, so total. She then brought her red haired head onto his bare brown chest as she continued with, "…officially the coolest one ever!"_

_Standing upright and taking his hands into her own once again, Zoey then added with all of the complete and genuine compassion that she possessed, __**"Multiples just means there's more Mike to love."**_

_The two teenagers, living in deep personal Hells of solitude, stood up straight and still holding the other's hands looked into the other's eyes. Both of them saw beautiful brown! _

_Those two sets of eyes of beautiful brown became a gateway. Even Mike and Zoey being torn apart mere hours after this event couldn't close that gate for them. From that point onward, the island Hell that was Camp Wawanakwa had become a pure Heaven! _

_What lovely memories were forged on this irritated island turned into a Garden of Eden! It was often the __**simplest**__ that were the strongest, that had the most meaning and effect. A gentle kiss; running her fingers through his hair; staring in happy silence at each other. _

_At the moment there was a particularly strong one. It was a memory of them laughing, laughing for a silly reason neither could remember. Then Zoey hugged Mike's back, standing on her tippy toes to so she could kiss Mike's lips. As they kissed, Mike's arms hugged her back tightly. Zoey couldn't breathe but that was perfectly ok right now. Once their lips parted from their embrace, Mike whirled the shorter Zoey around for no reason. Her feet were no longer touching the ground but that was perfectly ok right now. She buried her face in his Mike's chest and breathed in the mundane scent of shirt fabric. There was no smell to it but that didn't matter…it smelled good and Zoey felt good. _

_It was not like this. Not like this at all. There was a bad smell and she was far from good. _

_For the dream had twisted then, folding in upon itself and blossoming new, dark shapes. The dream wavered here. Here was where the bad thing was hidden. Hindsight can be a terrible thing, one sees the things that were there but obscured by things deemed more important at the time. And when some things are deemed more important, others aren't. _

_Among the "aren't" was a shadow in Mike's mind that came right before the Heaven. Even in the Garden of Eden that was the love of Mike and Zoey, a snake was there, watching with eyes cold-blooded and waiting with toxins more terrible than venom. _

_Contrary to what most visual depictions portray, the Serpent of Eden was not limbless. When the Dark Prince had taken it over, it had legs. The Serpent had walked to Eve. Then speaking with vocal cords never meant for human words, it promised knowledge. The knowledge it brought forth was knowledge of the darkest and most scarring kinds. _

_That knowledge was like a dark and polished stone, shattering the surface of the dream with ripples like conjurer's hoops, revealing shapes under it __loathsomely Lovecraftian. They had always been there but they were not seen or believed, they were in the "aren't". _

_As everything that Zoey had ever believed was being brought into question, her Heaven began its __corruption into a worse Hell that was a paradise lost…beauty replaced with bile. In the spiraling shadowy whirlpool of confusion this produced, Zoey started to clutch desperately at a train of thought, a black thread in a black landscape. _

_**Which of the two was blacker? **_

_There was no time to debate such things right now; there was only time for running. _

_The possessed limbed serpent that walked after a fall from grace, which haunted her with the terrible knowledge that had clawed its way into the light, was following Zoey. _

_His, its, name had slammed into her and made her knees buckled before its awful force. That name, once so beautiful, was now was a signature scrawled in acid by a needle. _

_**It was a name that was so beautiful! **_

_But then that thing had appeared from deep waters darker than Zoey could imagine. _

_The creature hiding behind Mike, __**Mad Mikey**__, had stepped into their lives without warning with the swiftness of light. Though Zoey had only been in its presence once, that one lone encounter left her mind covered in hints horrific and grotesqueries glimmering. _

_It was those hints and grotesqueries that manifested themselves before the redhead. They took on a shape, the worst kind of shape. Its shape flowed, making it a vicious viscous nightmare of liquid flesh. But even among the endless series of changes the worst part about it remained the same, Zoey knew exactly what the sad symbolism of the shape was. _

_Looking into the eyes revealed only shadows, veiled things that whispered subversive statements to the surface before they quickly faded away to offend no more in that way. But then, the shadows were seemingly wiped away and the subversive statements ceased to be whispered. The eyes were the gateway, but this time to the deepest of all Hells. _

_It was this shape, those eyes, and the inconceivable implications in those glowing irises that Zoey was running from. It was that and a stench of rotten corpses and total guilt. _

_Zoey was running through the hallways whose emptiness mirrored a cave or the grave. It was like the world's biggest dollhouse, devoid of life but meant to be an accurate replica. Rather than overweight men in blue uniforms there were silicone sentries and digital dogs, the foot soldiers of advanced electronic security who didn't have or need any feet. Sadly, they were also sentries that could be shut down and dogs that could be deleted. Zoey, frightened and alone, was running from the shadow of death encased in familiar flesh in this empty tomb of a building meant to be a place where horrors would be ended. _

_The shape will be finding her right about now…or maybe not now. But it will find her. _

_And even when it didn't find her, its legacy already had. All of those people, her friends, were gone forever…dead. __**They were all dead…because of her and her weakness!**_

_Zoey was traveling swiftly through passageways as complex and twisting as guilt itself. _

_Meanwhile, the __**shape**__ was strutting proudly, with patience. Its victory was inevitable, after all. The first step of its victory had long since been implanted inside of Zoey. _

_Inside her there was a fat, dark worm with no eyes but many teeth, rows upon rows of miniature curved sabers ready to be driven into warm human flesh. Not only did it writhe in the gut and congeal the mind into trembling gelatin, but also it lived off of the suffering it inflicted on its unlucky host. By making its own food inside of the victim's body, this worm becomes as familiar to the body as the organs that are necessary for life. It was a parasite that often burrowed its way into a host's core, and in that way it was a worm. But unlike the Beef Tapeworm it had no Latin name, no other name. Instead it had only one moniker to be classified under, it was __**fear.**__ Zoey did fear the __**shape**__ chasing her. _

_It was that fear that had her running even as there was a cracking of her joints as she runs and terror being pumped in equal proportion to blood in her young, healthy heart. _

_With the stench of guilt saturating her and the worm of fear borrowing within her bowels, Zoey had reached the main door of the faculty. She had reached her means of escape! _

_All she needed was the correct code. Zoey had been told the code to this faculty by Dakota, so she could occasionally visit her new friend frightened of leaving it. After feeling a brief but still genuine sting of remorse for that friend, Zoey put in the code. Her trembling fingers pressed the touch screen of a console no bigger than a checkerboard. _

_The digits were entered in the proper sequence for the doors to freedom to be opened. They weren't. The doors that even the Dakotazoid couldn't tear through remained shut. _

_Suddenly feeling the grim emotions and manic temperaments that must go through the mind of every victim in a horror movie who can't get a door to unlock or a car to start, Zoey entered the code again. Her fingers were trembling even more. The doors were still shut. _

_After failing with what she knew to be the correct code a third time, Zoey noticed something. The air around her had grown denser, perfumed by some unseen censer. But the atmosphere was not being viscous with respite and nepenthe to soothe and heal her. Instead it was that smell, of smoldering beetle shell and the onus-inspiring odor of death, which had transformed the ether into a sightless ocean engulfing Zoey in guilt and fear. _

_The console was a checkerboard that was aiding her opponent in reaching checkmate. Somehow in the illogical heat of the moment Zoey knew that and abandoned using it. The smells of beetles and brutality crashed over her in the transparent crests of waves. _

_As those aromas of anguish filled her nostrils and scraped at her rational brain, Zoey brought her focus on the large glass window at the center of the door. _

_Her fists were pounding at the door like little pale apples saturated with red liquid life, in fear of having that red liquid life slowly forced out of her. Her fingers were clawing at unbreakable glass, trying to dig through it as if it were dry soil. She pounds and hammers. She screams for help from vague concepts in shadow, they offer only silent reassurances. She became trapped in a second way, by a mind unable to comprehend all of this horror. _

_Blind glass and remorseless metal mocked her efforts by offering a powerless reflection. In the stark and indifferent image of that reflection Zoey saw only her shuddering terror._

_But then, likely in reaction to the sheer metaphysical blackness of her situation, Zoey found a faint ray of hope in a void matching a black hole in terms of hopelessness. Maybe this was all just a dream? And not just her being in the faculty alone, maybe everything was? Maybe the darkness within Mike was only a mirage imagined in a nasty nightmare? Even Mike himself being nothing more than a dream wouldn't be the worst possibility._

_As a smile only on the very fringe of being honest, one microsecond away from artificial, Zoey saw something. Her reflection was changing within the reflective glass of the door. Like the false molten rock within a lava lamp, her reflection was morphing and shifting, becoming combinations of colors and developing types of textures that likely do not exist. _

_Then, when the colors stayed constant and the textures were uniform in solidness, Zoey realized what had happened. Her own reflection had changed into the form of the __**shape!**_

_Zoey saw that the shape's eyes were closed but that didn't weaken the terror or the form. Within moments of the __**shape**__ appearing within the door's window…__**the eyes opened!**_

_**KRRETTTTESSH!**_

_The glass, the reassurances that this was just a dream of mirages and maybes, shattered! The shards of glass, jagged and irregular, danced in the air and as they did they reflected the faces with the warped imperfection of a fun-house mirror. In the frozen tableau of shattered glass, brown eyes of different widths and lengths stared at the one named Zoey. Hanging poised like heavy shimmering raindrops that have yet to reach the ground, the asymmetrical glass triangles crystallized in time reflected the frightened face of Zoey!_

_But seeing her own frightened face isn't what terrified her. Instead what did was that the shape had stopped its shifting and was in front of her in its true form and all of its horror. _

_The shape had mocha skin, spiky dark hair, a devil's smile, and bright eyes. But it was the eyes that said the most; they were the gaping mouth to the true source of the terror. Earlier this day Zoey had stared into the glowing green devil's eyes of Mad Mikey. The eyes that were now glaring at her with a glowing gaze were devil's eyes…but not green!_

_Instead, the eyes of this devil dressed in mocha skin were __**brown!**__ Not a beautiful brown. _

_They were a __**burning brown**__ that brightly brimmed with the total abominations of Hell! Within the shining spheres of sorrel light was the most casual and committed cruelty! They were the eyes of one whose goodness had been burned away and replaced with nothing but the darkest of imaginations that exist in a realm on the very edge of thought. They were the eyes of one who is truly monstrous, wretched, suffering, and forever lost! _

_**THEY WERE THE EYES OF MIKE!**_

_The thing that Zoey began to fear most, Mike, not Mikey, started to advance slowly towards her. His bright brown never blinked, never allowed for any doubt to exist. Zoey was never able to question if this was the same person whose eyes and name were once so beautiful. It was, but now he was a monster and everyone was dying because of him. She tried to believe that Mike was still innocent but the stench was making that hard. She wanted to believe it so bad, to maintain the fairy tale, the dream, as the wonderful truth! _

_But then Zoey's back hit a wall. Zoey had hit the indifferent and unmoving truth of it all! _

_The eyes with radiant russet, Mike's corrupted chocolate colored eyes, were so close. The same breath that Zoey had smelled earlier from Mikey, of Hell's fire and rotten corpses, so gently but so cruelly splashed onto her face. But still Zoey held onto one last hope. _

_With fear overpowering all rational thought, Zoey weakly asked, "M-Mike?" The déjà vu of this happening when Mad Mikey had Zoey by the throat earlier dawned on her then. It was a horrific repetition, repulsive in that Zoey reentered the worse she ever felt…__**ever.**_

_Truly powerless in every sense of the word, Zoey wished nothing more than the answer to this question be, __**"no"**__. Or, Zoey wished for that question to not be answered, just like before. While that would offer no release, it would still allow for some precious doubt. _

_This time, the being bound in mocha skin did answer Zoey's question. But this time, the answer would bring to Zoey even greater guilt, deeper despair, and more hollow hope. _

"_YES…ZZZZZZOOEY!" Mike, the beast believed to be a boyfriend, said with a long hiss. But this hiss wasn't the strangest feature of him talking. In the gap between his teeth, which Zoey once found so cute, a serpent's tongue, crimson and forked, slithered out! _

_Zoey's own brown eyes, while not glowing, grew into perfect circles from fullest fear! How was this possible? __**How was ANY of this possible!?**_

_Then, the shape before her; the limbed serpent, the nightmare, Mad Mikey, Mike…which ever it was, began to change again! _

_This time the transformation was more detailed…more gruesome. The baby blue shirt and mocha skin darkened to bruised purple before shifting to a brighter though still not bright bloodied red. At different points long, thin, and crackled luminous blue lines ran. A dense and black tar-like smoke started billowing through from this frightening form. From behind this sulfurous smokescreen two massive shapes sprouted with __a vengeance. Wide and riddled with tattered leathery skin, the two bat-like wings folded over the body. __Though this vapor and these wings obscured much, the worse details were very clear. And by far the worse details were the ones connected to the face, to a face so beautiful. _

_Many points and ridges began craving themselves out over the now reddened skin. The many spines of black hair were compressed into two massive backwards-curving horns. The white teeth were decayed and filed down by unknown means into yellowed fangs. The sockets around the eyes grew much larger, as if the eyes were now being absorbed. But this stopped eventually and what resulted were large darkened sockets of lime green._

_All of this, no matter how macabre, paled in comparison to the ultimate horror though. For everything that changed, one detail, the signal of damnation, remained the same. The eyes themselves remained a bright, burning brown. The eyes remained exactly the same. No matter what it called itself, said, or looked like, this thing would always be Mike!_

_This shifting nightmare was the true Mike, always changing but fundamentally wicket!_

"**NO! THIS ISN'T TRUE! THIS CAN'T BE TRUE! THIS CAN'T BE THE REAL YOU MIKE! NO…MIKE! NOOOOOOOOO!" **Zoey shouted still in tiring slumber.

It was that thought…that this being, this monster of containing horrors beyond all recall, was the true Mike that had stirred Zoey from her slumber. Heavy breathing and profuse sweating were the indicators of returning to the waking world, to the worse nightmare.

For the moment though, the nightmare not flesh and blood was more on her sacred mind.

Getting up almost mechanically from the bed in the room she had been laying on, Zoey moved elsewhere in for no particular reason. It was just out of irrational yet full instinct. Zoey crouched on the floor with her back to the wall, shivering violently. Her complex imagination was reduced to a storm of bleak emotions, with smoldering beetle shells and shining brown eyes being crushed into her by the winds whose power she couldn't stop.

Everything came rushing back to her, what had happened today, what was likely going to happen today, and all of the swirling and conflicting emotions conjured by them. Her mind then flashed to not so long ago, when one of the doctors recommended that Zoey take a strong sedative, out of likely seeing how all of this was wreaking havoc on her.

Sadly though, the sedative was not able to help her. Zoey's turmoil was simply too great. The world of sleep was no longer a sanctuary; it was now a realm of ghouls and death. But her waking brought no relief; no end to the nightmares made by the sleep of reason.

Nevertheless, Zoey started walking the halls of the Milton Medical Faculty…again. She was going nowhere but she hoped walking would bring some calm to her frantic mind. Not too long after starting to walk, Zoey passed the room in which B and Cameron were at work building the battle armor that would be their deliverance if the Dakotazoid failed.

Though unquestionably bright and capable, B and Cameron couldn't fully comprehend the scale of the being that they faced; they were treading on the very borders of mythology itself! On the borders of sentiment beings not human. And what are sentient beings, human or otherwise, but chariots of wrath, but false demi-gods that cry **war**?

* * *

Not too long after Lightning's defeat by Mad Mikey, the second being with clawed feet tearing up the soil of the island was still running. But this being had true claws, not shoes with spiky soles of man-made materials. Though this being was technically man-made.

With legs like orange pillars and pistons of primal power propelling it, it was almost there. As the running was about to stop, the man-made life form was about to meet its damned destination, to meet death, to meet the new and unique being…Mad Mikey.

That new and unique being of damnation was not too far from where it met Lightning. And just as before that encounter, it was bringing death to the island animals…with song.

"Go ahead all you righteous and all you sinners,

Enjoy our favorite meals and precious dinners!

As you do, the buzzards fly and the maggots crawl,

Towards **you**…"

At **"you"**, the man-made being leapt from the bushes and hit the ground with its weight. Mad Mikey's back, Mike's back, was facing the creature that had just leapt from the bushes. As the back covered by the bright blue cloth of a teenager's shirt turned, the younger inhuman monstrosity controlling the teenager's body finished its vile song with, **"…the grandest feast of all!"**

Now with its glowing green eyes gazing on the man-made being, **the Dakotazoid**, Mad Mikey observed this life form's frightening features. It stood at over twelve feet tall, over twice the height of the average human and Mike. The skin on this towering terror was orange…this titan was a type of tangerine found only on some types of trees naturally. Wrapping tightly around the waist of this carroty colossus was the mangled and magenta remains of what were long hot pink pants. Puzzled over how the fuchsia fabric of the pants somehow stayed together just enough to cover its lady parts, Mad Mikey then noticed the fat yet pointed tail protruding from its posterior (again, the massive hole that produced should have made the remains of the pants unable to remain to her form). Almost as odd was the piece of pink cloth that was once a pink top that was mostly together aside from the bottom becoming tattered. Next came the apricot arms, which had spines, made of hardened muscles coming from its shoulders and elbows meant to accommodate the unnatural additions to the body of Dakota. Its claws were purloined human fingernails, once frail and fine, that now were blades of hard pearl and diamond. Then there was the hair, upwards-curving spines of luminous lime that were almost as unnaturally green as the demon's emerald eyes. Those same emerald eyes moved from the vertical vivid verdigris villus on the Dakotazoid's head to the face previously human.

Though some traces of the human Dakota Milton could be seen, a stranger presence overpowered them. Some of this came from pink lips with white teeth like filed fangs. But that wasn't the greatest reason for this. That honor belonged to this being's eyes. Within their sockets its pupils float like blood red rubies in puddles of molten gold. The rubies in gold that were the eyes were reduced to vengeful slits of violence and bloodlust.

Having observed all of the details of the Dakotazoid, Mad Mikey wondered something.

Would there be blood? If so, how much would be spilled? Would there be a single drop of sticky crimson or gallons of red lubricant in extraordinary quantities? It didn't matter. While it would be a nice consolation prize for Mad Mikey, it wasn't of vital importance. What was of vital importance, what did matter, was **the dying,** **the pain**…starting now.

"I must say I was starting to wonder if I'd ever see you. So, how did it happen? Did Dakota allow you to replace her or did you tear her apart with those colossus claws?" Mad Mikey said, savoring the looks of anger becoming even greater on the other's face. "Doesn't really matter I guess. What does is that you are alive and I have some novel ways to remedy that fact. To, in all literalness, **kill two birds with one stone." **

Moving Mike's legs in coerced cooperation, Mad Mikey slowly approached the Dakotazoid. As it did with a face showing no alarm at all, the demon kept talking.

"How cretinous you are. How frail, how putrid and sick…but could I expect any better? How high a standard can one have for creatures of meat and marrow, of limit and life? Everything else in existence is beneath me. Corpses who don't know they're dead. You have no power over me dull, puny creature since I cannot be sto…" Mad Mikey said without a single factionary bit of doubt until the Dakotazoid in a shockingly fluid motion for a creature so large and muscular suddenly grabbed one of Mike's legs! **"…AAA!"**

Now holding one of Mike's legs in one of its claws with a grip strong enough to crush metal, the Dakotazoid began slamming the body of Mike into the dirt around it with all of the force that its arm could muster. Mad Mikey, the invincible being that has filled those on this island with absolute fear, was now being flung around as if it were a ragdoll!

After about ten slams into the soil that caused ochre dust to hoover in the air, the mocha-skinned body being borrowed was dropped onto the ground. The eyelids were shut.

Though the Dakotazoid didn't know much, it did now that its power had been greatly increased by the efforts to separate it from Dakota. It wasn't the same being that struggled with a giant turtle like **Dakota** did at the finale in mutant form. Still, it was shocked that it had defeated Mad Mikey so easily. Puzzled but not distractingly so, the same massive mutant hand that slammed the body into the dirt picked it up by the waist.

Unable to resist a smirk on its face formally Dakota's, the Dakotazoid held Mike's face in front of its own as it said in mocking of the demon's earlier words, "Dull, puny creature."

However, at that instant, the mocha eyelids parted and the bright green glowed greater! With a strike of shocking speed and strength both of Mike's feet hit the Dakotazoid's chin! As the demon had Mike's body flip through the air to land on sneaker covered feet, the Dakotazoid was sent falling face first onto the same upturned dirt as Mad Mikey had.

As the twelve foot tall titan with titian got back on its clawed feet, it felt a warm liquid slowly running out of the right side of the mouth that now had filed fangs for teeth. Taking one of its claw fingers, the Dakotazoid eventually realized what it was…**blood!**

The Dakotazoid did indeed bleed. But not in red blood, in human blood. Instead a thick dark green was slowly leaking out of its mouth. It bled in **green blood**, mutant blood. This was more revealing than a first glance would indicate. It was the greatest example of how despite being more akin to each other than anything else known; the Dakotazoid and Mad Mikey were fundamentally different too. While both were beings based in nerves, the Dakotazoid was also based in flesh and bone and blood. That's why Dakota's body was greatly changed when the Dakotazoid was in control while Mike's body remained unchanged except for the eyes under Mad Mikey. It also meant that something else. While the Dakotazoid was extremely powerful for a body-based life form, it was still that, a body based life form, a being with limits that it could not surpass. Mad Mikey, in contrast, had no connection to Mike's body except control and therefore none of its limits. If in control for long enough, Mad Mikey could surpass every limit of the known!

Unable, both in mental ability and interest, to realize this, the Dakotazoid looked at Mad Mikey. Moving mocha-skinned fingers together, it felt the sticky crimson in between them. Mad Mikey stared in fascination at some red blood that came from Mike's body. Then it returned its glowing gaze to the Dakotazoid with a sick smile on Mike's face.

"Um? You managed to make me bleed Mike's blood? You actually managed to hurt me? I doubt you could understand the weight of this; it's my first taste of physical pain since I took a shotgun to the Mike's face. And you know what…**I love it!** Yes, oh yes! There are so many new wonderful sensations of pain and pleasure all at once! There are the nerves of molten copper, the barbed stinging of acidic worming needles under the skin, the blank canvas of internal organ ready to be painted deepest burgundy by internal bleeding…it is all so **beautiful.** In fact, I love it so much, allow me to return the favor, Dakotazoid."

"Dakota no want favor. Dakota want you smashed!" The Dakotazoid said, clearly having enough of this demon's talk (which was never its strong suit).

"**Of course you realize, this means war!"** Mad Mikey responded with a smirk, thinking the same thing about the time of words being passed between the two being not human.

"**MMMMMMMUURRAAAAAGH!" **The Dakotazoid roared in a loud, primal growl.

It was ready for the violence!

Once again its legs like large orange pillars propelled it forward, charging at Mad Mikey!

At the same time, the mocha human legs of inhuman power propelled the demon forward, charging at the Dakotazoid!

As they jousted like horseless medieval knights, an unrealized coincidence had occurred. For the second time today, two creatures with unnatural power entered a lethal vendetta.

Just like the Laser-Eyes Squirrel and the Telekinetic Mouse whose fatal feud the Dakotazoid unknowingly stopped while running towards Mad Mikey, two instinctual un-human rivals with eyes of radiant red and glowing green licked their lips for the molten copper of the other unique being's blood, whether it was **red or green!**

The chariots were about to release their super-human wrath, their super-human pain.

* * *

_After a long interval, there was a ringing in his ears; then after a lapse still longer, a tingling sensation in the extremities; then a seemingly eternal period of pleasurable quiescence, during which come the awakening feelings were involuntarily struggling into thought. This was followed by a brief re-sinking into non-entity, then a sudden recovery. It was an unwanted recovery, a sad recovery, a recovery into inhuman injuries and pain. _

_While the pain was absolute and constant, the reactions it would lead to Mike were anything but. _

_There were times were Mike lost whatever dignity he might have been clinging to as he would start rolling around on the forest floor as shameless as a wild animal. Though limited by the chains around his wrists, this was a basic endless attempt to dodge the pain. It was utterly hopeless because all this did was invite the shades to inflict more pain. _

_There were times where Mike was unable to take the pressures and would unleash every insulting and scurrilous word and emotion he could muster as a weapon against Mad Mikey. Often the demon would react as if they were nothing more than the words of a child who just discovered profanity, meaning they were not to be taken seriously. It was another example of the cruelties here; Mike's words didn't have any meaning or effect. _

_There were moments where the torture lasted for so long that Mike stopped viewing the relentless pain as the thing that was cruel and unforgivable. The replacement for the relentless pain as the cruel and unforgiveable thing was he not being able to lose consciousness. Even with an enemy as clear as could be there were moments where Mike hated himself more than his tormentors. He hated himself for being so helpless and weak. _

_Mike was in Hell. He knew, with horrible and despair inspiring certainty, that he was the weaker of the two warring personalities that skirmished beneath his mocha-colored skin. _

_The drive and fury of the demon's attacks and mere presence had the implacable and unreasoning intensity of a hurricane or typhoon. Hell, it seemed to be even stronger than those things, two of the greatest forces that humans could imagine based off of their lives on Earth. Mike was helpless…__**total helpless.**_

_As Mike might have been slowly starting to piece together, the sense of helplessness he felt was a vital part of Mad Mikey's overall plan. But why, why did it matter so much? The answer was as simple as it was now soul shattering for Mike. The expectation of help, the certainty of help, is one of the fundamental experiences of human beings. However daunting or hopeless one's current position in life might be, there was always the possibility of another showing them either compassion or the means to improve it. Sometimes just the possibility of that, even if unfulfilled, could get a person through it. Of course there are countless documented examples of people still being destroyed in some matter regardless of this. But the existence of help itself was of vital importance. Take away any possibility of help, and you hurt a person more severely than any pain. It renders them broken, robbed them of something integral to them being a person which could never again be revived. And Mike was in the process of breaking, of being broken. _

_Having been tortured in all manners for a length of time unknowable, you could see that. Mike's mind began to show the signs of this nature being broken, whether known or not. _

_Sometimes the constant state of pain would slightly increase or slightly decrease, and when this happened his thoughts expanded or contracted accordingly. When the pain grew, Mike's mind was under its complete control and nothing else was thought of. When the pain lessened, panic replaced the pain as the force dominating Mike's mind. In those moments, the ones of lessor pain, Mike was so panicked that he could swear there were moments when he foresaw his own future. While it was just his mind running on darkened imaginings, they were of such detail that they felt just as real as his current state. He saw things as diverse as: his own bones being broken and then fixed just to be broken again, his body coursing with so much electricity that his heart galloped like a frightened horse and his breath stopped completely, and him lying on the dirty forest floor as he groveled for mercy from the beings without mercy through broken teeth. Even in the moments of lessor pain, relief was something that Mike couldn't hope to obtain. _

_All of this had an effect that Mike only slowly began to understand in his time of torture. By implementing so many different types of pain without any pattern, Mad Mikey was forcing Mike to endure an additional torture without even trying. Mike was enduring the torture of uncertainty, of not knowing what type of pain we would experience. Even if it was technically lessor than a pervious pain, the mere not knowing made that irrelevant. _

_When the pain ceased, Mike's mind sagged around the same thoughts. Like a silver ball in a pinball machine, it recoiled between pulsating bumpers made of different pains. His consciousness skittered through his own mental maze and kept falling into the same series of slots. Cruelly, while his mind may have been like a bead of mercury, it also had self-awareness. Like a planarian worm that had been following the trail of slime of others already trained to run a maze, Mike's mind traveled through this maze already knowing its curves and dead-ends. It already knew what awaited it. He only had eight thoughts. The many different types of pain he felt; the people he became friends with after Total Drama Revenge of the Island was over; Cameron; his parents; Zoey; the four pervious personalities tormenting him; the new personality that was their master; his own death. _

_While the shadowy forms of these savage specters of the soul saw to it that no help or relief would come to him, that thought began to enter Mike's head and it had the soothing effect of a rich musical note. It was such a simple thought; it was of what sweet rest there must be in the grave and how wonderful it must be to be dead. It came to him gently and stealthily until it had dug its claws into his mind before it attained full appreciation from Mike. After that it didn't take much for the notion to be enjoyed entertainment for him. _

_Mike actually dwelled on that notion for quite some time, followed by another. For the first time ever, Mike realized that there truly was such a thing as a fate worse than death. _

_That was just one import given to Mike's new reality from fairy tales…though not fully. There may be heroes and demons, princesses and monsters, but there are no storybook insurances of a happy ending. The drama of the romance and the fairy time is askew, contorted by life's injustices and realities into tragedy. The heroes will come too late; the villain's brutal defeat would achieve nothing aside from there being one less lost soul in the lost world, and the fictional 'a fate worse than death' is forsaken as a cliché in favor of blighted reality and grimmest non-fiction. _

_What deformities would blossom within Mike from this grimmest non-fiction?_

* * *

"**There are stories even here. Stories that grow, as blighted trees, into a tormented puzzle. Frictions that become over-ripe and fester on the vine. The stories here have blossomed into deformities, nurtured by a curious soil." ****–Alan Moore's Swamp Thing Annual #2 "Down Amongst the Dead Men"**

* * *

**And there you have it! Well, did it live up to all of your expectations? Was it as dark as you thought it was going to be? **

**As you have may have already guessed, I have a 'BLEEP' ton of influences for this story! However, I feel like here is a perfect place to give as brief shout-out to perhaps the single largest one aside from Total Drama itself and the best Total Drama fan-fictions on this site ("Candy for Your Thoughts?", "Total Drama Comeback", "Total Drama Battlegrounds", "Total Drama Island: A New Beginning", "Total Drama All-Stars", "A Codette World Tour", and more). Anyway, that influence is the works of Alan Moore. For those of you who don't know who he is or what his works are, I'll explain. Alan Moore is rightly regarded as the best comic book writer ever and likely one of the few who can legitimately be compared to the best of traditional writers! I was never a fan of comics but this guy's stuff is easily among the smartest and most powerful stuff I've ever read! In particular **_**"Watchmen"**_** and his runs on both **_**"Miracleman/Marvelman"**_** and **_**"Swamp Thing"**_** have a long shadow over "Mad Mikey"! ****I mention this because not only because I think there's much enjoyment for you to be had from his works but also to say that for sure a couple of the next chapters will have end quotations taken directly from those other works of his I've mentioned.**

**As I said in the author's notes before, one of the points of this chapter was to "establish the major "theaters" of action that will be in the next few chapters". So just to recap, I'll flat out say here what those major theaters are: 1. Mike in his own mind with Mad Mikey, 2. Zoey in the Milton Medical Faculty grappling with her fears and doubts, 3. The Dakotazoid battling Mad Mikey (with occasional interruptions from Lightning), 4. Dawn in the woods struggling with the new world of madness that she has seen and the boarder implications of battling Mad Mikey, 5. Sam reading Dr. Johnson's journal and discovering his past and point of view here. There are of course likely going to be other things that are focused on but for at least the next two or three chapters, these five theaters of action will be the major focus. **

**(1) As I'm hoping this indicates, this scene did not actually happen. It was a vision that Dawn was seeing as to what the future might be. That's why about half of it is written in normal font and the other half is in italics, to show just how real it seems to Dawn. Hopefully that was conveyed successfully. **

**One last thing, given that my graduate schooling will be truly starting today and that most of the ideas and thoughts for the next few chapters are more haphazard than the ones for this chapter were…there will be a longer wait for the next chapter. I might not be able to work it as much as I would like but I will be working on it. **

**So until then please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


	9. Amongst Horrors

**Author's Notes: My God…this story and me are not dead after all! :)**

**In all seriousness, I'm very sorry for such a painfully long wait for this chapter. As you may or may not remember, right when I posted the last chapter I had started graduate school. Only recently I finished my classes until the next semester. So I often didn't have the time or the creative spark to add to this chapter during that. Also, I have been heavily involved with the story "Total Drama: What is Real?" If you haven't read or reviewed that story yet, I highly recommend it since its great! **

**I hope this chapter will make up for this and have been worth the five-month wait. **

**Now then, before the chapter itself, there are three things that I must address here. **

**First, as you have likely noticed, this story is now rated as M and the genre of "suspense" has been replaced with "horror". In regards to the genre change, that was a long time coming. When I first started this story, I wasn't sure if it could qualify as horror. Upon reflection, I've come to realize that it was silly of me to question that. But of greater importance is the reason why the story's rating as been changed. This was not an easy decision for me, making this story M means that far fewer people will discover it and ergo, read it. However, the second "scene", if you will, involves a action which, though arguable if it actually does, gets very close to the boundary of where T crosses over into M. Some of you reading this know what I'm talking about because I sent much of it you for your opinions on the matter. But to those how don't, as you'll see it's a scene that pushes horrible events actually seen. I'm generally of the opinion that it's more frightening when instead of focusing on a horrible action that it's far more powerful to focus on its effects instead of the action itself. But for this scene, to show how powerless Mike is, I had to focus on it. The scene will have the ****bold markers saying: "Warning: The Dark Is About To Start!" and "Warning: Darkness Done…For Now!" from chapter four just in case this story ever becomes T once again or if you wish to skip that scene regardless. ****Please know that this story will not be changed in any way because its now rated M. More or less everything that you will read would be the case if it were rated T or M. Nothing will be increased in terms of darkness or violence just because its rated M. Also, things like the censoring of curse words will remain but I find that stuff funny. **

**Second, there's another reason why I'm making "Mad Mikey" rated M aside from artistic integrity. You see in the time since the last chapter was published, while I couldn't devote the energy or time to "Mad Mikey", I started thinking of other stories. As a result, I have three story ideas that have the first chapters completed. For some reason, I'm thinking because this story is not rated M, I can't post new stories. So, I'm hoping that by making "Mad Mikey" rated M, I'll be able to do so. Hopefully, within the next week or so, you'll see three fresh new stories being started. If you know any info about these three stories that will hopefully come, please don't say nothing specifically about what I have told you. I want them to be surprises. Also, they will not be my main focus in terms of fan-fiction and therefore updates on them might have great lengths of time between them. I'll go to them when I'm too tired or unable to focus on writing "Mad Mikey", my top concern. **

**Third, we are almost at the one-year anniversary of when this story was published! I had briefly considered just waiting until the actual anniversary but you've waited long enough. Wow, it's already been an entire year since I started writing this story. Aside from me enjoying writing this story and getting great feedback for it, I'm especially proud of "Mad Mikey" for another reason. It was through "Mad Mikey" that I met all you wonderful people who have read, reviewed, and favored this story! Because of this story, I've made so many friends: TheGunMaster, CRGGL, malzi21, NerdyBarista, TheSmirkingSnake, XxReddShadowxX, play for keeps, iPsychic, ****Not So Broken768, ForeverTheTorturedRebel, and too many others to name them all here! Your reviews and my discussions with you guys have been a highlight of my life! I can't honestly say just how much I value your friendship and comments. :) **

**Oh, and one last thing I'll say here. I'll add more about it in the endnotes but one of the OCs from the Kobold Necromancer's "Total Drama Battlegrounds" will appear again and this time have a talking role! You'll have to wait to see which one. And yes, I have his permission to use the character and his approval of the scene itself. **

**Ok, having said all of that, here at long last is the ninth chapter of "Mad Mikey":** **Amongst Horrors**

* * *

The blades of grass beneath their feet either clawed or covered in rubber sneaker were once again eager with thirsty anticipation for the blood about to be sprayed upon them.

There thirst was partially slaked by red jewels, beads of mutant blood, as they crawled along mocha-skinned arms from blood-red fists and fell onto the grass like tears in rain.

The chariots of wrath surpassing humanity in a joust, Mad Mikey and the Dakotazoid, would not disappoint them as the distance between them was about to rendered moot.

Now within striking distance of each other, the two warriors prepared for the first blow!

The collision of that blow sent shockwaves and a loud pain filled roar through the air!

Which would win the joust, land the first blow, and offer the other's blood to the grass?

As the blood of a thicker green drenched the blades of green, the answer was given. Mad Mikey had landed the first blow in this war between forces greater than any before them. The shock of the impact ran along Mike's arm. The teenager's muscles had struck with a strength many times greater than the mightiest of human muscles should be able to make.

But power wasn't all that was displayed with this second strike to the Dakotazoid's chin. Any spectators would have stood there in muted wonder at the grace of its moments. Its strength was not just fearsome but it was controlled and intelligent, subtle and precise.

Judged in these terms, it would be safe to say that this opening skirmish belonged to Mad Mikey. But that wouldn't matter. This battle wouldn't be won by subtlety or intelligence.

Proof of this came from the Dakotazoid that was still in the air from the blow but now was near the ground. In mid-air during the descent, the Dakotazoid quickly flipped itself. Landing on its carroty-clawed feet, the Dakotazoid was still sent sliding backwards crouched with one of its massive claws dug into the earth to balance itself as it fell. Once the momentum of its slide on the ground had lessened, the Dakotazoid stood tall and facing Mad Mikey as it continued to slide. The long upturned patches of irritated earth produced after the Dakotazoid's landing upright proved the might of Mad Mikey's blow. The over one ton weight of the mutant had been sent sliding over five feet by that might. Despite that might, the Dakotazoid was largely unfazed, as it stood tall and eagerly ready.

Without a single moment's hesitation the Dakotazoid once again charged at Mad Mikey. Meeting each other for a second time, the two beings began to parry and dodge strikes. While Mad Mikey's blows might have had more skill and grace, they couldn't compare to the sheer power that blasted its way out of the twelve-foot tall form of the Dakotazoid. Its muscles shifted like continental plates, rolling under a hide of rough tangerineleather.

If not engaging the demon in battle, it would have taken note of something. What had occurred was subtle and small but of grand significance. Before, in particular when it was first brought back to the real world, Mad Mikey had Mike's chest ebb and flow with the natural rhythm of breathing. But while fighting the Dakotazoid for no particular reason, the natural rhythm ceased. Similar to its earlier fight with the soldiers, Mad Mikey was not breathing hard, **it wasn't breathing at all**. Why would it? Unlike Mike, Mad Mikey had no lungs, no blood to be enriched by fresh oxygen with every breath. There was no need for that action that takes so much effort without it even being realizing by all the creatures of the land and air. Since the beginning and from this point onward, whenever the demon had Mike's chest heave it wasn't because of vital necessity but instead because of stubborn human habit gripping that which wasn't human and wouldn't leave.

But not needing to breath offered Mad Mikey no great advantage against the Dakotazoid. Mike's right mocha-colored fist attempted to drive itself into the mutant's orange form. It was deflected with a single well-timed parry from one of the creature's colossal claws. Within less than a second of delay, Mad Mikey then brought forward Mike's left fist. Matching before, the Dakotazoid swiftly blocked and negated this second failed strike.

Just as lacking in delay was the Dakotazoid's next move, as sudden as it was savage. Forcing its massive head downward with all of power its neck muscles could muster, the Dakotzoid head-butted Mad Mikey with a force that should have shattered Mike's skull!

As Mad Mikey staggered back while struggling to stand, the loud crunch of shattered bone ripped its way through the air! But the fragments of Mike's skull didn't join it.

Mike's skull was not shattered, you see, thanks to the darkly ironic gift of Mad Mikey. While using Mike's body to commit unspeakable acts, the demonic force gave that same body physical ability, endurance, and a resistance to injury that no human could imagine. So what should have rendered Mike's head into a mass of red and dark pink brain jelly merely brought pain to Mad Mikey while barely damaging Mike's skull in any way.

And right now the pain brought upon Mad Mikey, from the first successful strike from the Dakotzoid since the battle had begun, was greater than the mutant could have known. For while Mad Mikey surpassed humanity in terms of its endurance of bodily injury, it wasn't something that was immune to it…in particular to certain types of bodily injury.

Being a life form that in the biological sense (to what limited extent that term applied) was essentially a living nervous system of biological electricity in Mike's head, it was more receptive to **blows to Mike's head** or forces that** affected the nerves or electricity.** These were the means of attack that would bring the greatest pain upon Mad Mikey.

As Mad Mikey was greatly dazed by the blow to Mike's head and trying to recover fast, inside the Dakotazoid's own head the gears of its limited mind were slowly turning. It was trying to understand how one simple strike to the head had such an affect on Mikey. After a few moments of trying to understand why this was so, the matter was dropped. The Dakotazoid frankly didn't give a damn as to why blows to the head hurt it so much. But what it did give a damn about was how attacks to the head hurt Mad Mikey so much.

The Dakotazoid had a plan of attack, as advanced as its mind was capable of planning. It would hit the head really '**BLEEPING'** hard until Mad Mikey stopped or it broke open!

With this most basic and brutal of battle plans formed, the Dakotazoid got to work on it. Just as Mad Mikey was starting to regain its intangible bearings in the physical world, one of the Dakotazoid's large claws grabbed hold of Mike's body and slammed it down!

Holding Mike's body to the ground, the Dakotazoid began to run as fast as its legs could. The large mutated form that was once Dakota was dragging Mike's body along as it ran. Mad Mikey struggled to release itself from the enormous grip of the Dakotazoid but it was still too affected by the strike to Mike's head to adequately stop the mutant's attack. With every new bump or uneven patch of earth that Mike's head was forced to collide with, a new and even greater surge of pain ricocheted throughout Mad Mikey's form!

After leaving twenty feet of a razor slash of upturned dirt from dragging Mad Mikey, the Dakotazoid seemed to think that this particular torture had gone on for long enough. Still running at full sprint, the Dakotazoid finally lifted Mike's form up out of the earth.

With one fluid motion, the mutant raised the arm that was holding down Mad Mikey in front of it. Letting go of the mocha-skinned body, the extraordinary being controlling it was released into the air lightly. As the slight ascent ended, it was at the mutant's eye-level. Staring into eyes of blood red and puss yellow more angry than any pair before them, Mad Mikey didn't have time to react in its dazed state for the next attack to come.

The Dakotazoid's other hand, already balled into a fearsome fist, struck Mike's body! With all of the considerable power within the Dakotazoid unleashed with that single blow, Mad Mikey was sent flying forward for many paces as tress were devastated!

Once what seemed like an eternity to the flying Mad Mikey had finally passed, it landed. After crashing violently into the earth, the demon controlling Mike was in another massive scar of the false island's upturned ground. As plant roots and the random remains of whatever creatures had unluckily been in its path and ripped to pieces were scattered all around Mike's form, Mad Mikey dragged itself out of the crumbling dirt.

Even in its hazy state, it noticed that the landscape around it was slightly different now. While it was still mostly surrounded by forest, Mad Mikey had apparently landed at the base of a large cliff.

It wouldn't have long to regain its bearings though. The Dakotazoid was nearly there. Despite the great speed at which Mad Mikey had been forced to travel just now, the mutant had clearly started running after it as soon as it was launched this way by it.

Though its form was a circuit way of intense and crippling pain, Mad Mikey resumed fighting. Pain, whether physical or not, was something it was use to and could ignore. Besides, the possibility of hurting another even more was simply too enticing for it!

And so Mad Mikey for the third time rushed at the Dakotazoid for more savage combat. This time the demon decided to try and attack the twelve-foot tall mutant massive body. Sadly for Mad Mikey (but happily for everything else on Earth) this would fail as well.

As Mad Mikey tried to get a hold of the Dakotazoid's stomach, the mutant got a hold of it. Once in the mutant's grip again, Mad Mikey was lifted over its green haired head upside down. With a force equaling the savageness already displayed, Mike's head was slammed into the ground…**HARD!**

So hard in fact that a massive carter was created by the force of the strike to the earth! Rocks and patches of the island as big as Mike's head were violently sent into the sky!

Still in the Dakotazoid's grip after making contact with the rock-like ground in this place, Mad Mikey was lifted once again above the Dakotazoid's head twelve feet in the air. Remaining upside down but this time held by Mike's thin legs in dark blue pants, Mad Mikey was slammed into the same patch of bruised boulder-like terrain for the second time! And a third time! A fourth! A fifth! A sixth! A seventh, eighth, ninth, and a tenth!

But it didn't end with ten. Mike's form became a human club for at least fifty blows!

After the all of the ground it was standing on had become a massive pile of broken dirt, the Dakotazoid kicked Mad Mikey as it struggled to stand up after the endless blows.

Though by the Dakotazoid's standards it was a fairly restrained kick, it was still strong enough to send Mike's form crashing into the much stronger and more painful Cliffside. Standing up, more so out of the force of the collision with the rock than a actual ability or intention to do so on its own, Mad Mikey had mere moments until the stronger than vice-like grip of the mutant's claws came to apply that grip to Mike's throat.

After lifting Mad Mikey slightly into the air, the Dakotazoid switched back to holding it by Mike's torso. Priming a claw crafted into a crushing fist for yet another time, the mutant devised another blunt yet brutally effectively means to bring about more agony.

The Dakotazoid punched Mike's head into the far harder Cliffside that surrounded them!

Again, a seemingly endless series of punches with a power beyond physical possibility rained upon the face of the boyfriend of Dakota's Ba-Fa-Fa who wasn't in control now!

Each strike shattered the stone a little more; long jagged lines shot upward and began to render the rock unstable. The entire Cliffside began to break apart as boulders and other broken pieces of rock as large as Mad Mikey began to fall to the earth surrounding them!

This did not sway the Dakotazoid as it continued to punch and punch without mercy!

With Mad Mikey having experienced the pain of Mike's head being smashed on hard stone, the Dakotazoid displayed the same mindset as so far in this fight, brutal and effective yet lacking in originally, as it dragged Mike's head along the jagged rock side.

Running at a full sprint once again, the mutant made Mad Mikey endure a far stronger pain then when it was being dragged through the dirt. It wasn't just because of the material involved as the Dakotazoid dragged Mad Mikey through the hard stone for miles! For how many exactly was unknown to Mad Mikey amid the pain. As this new level of pain was being brought upon the dark creature seemingly from some unknown realm, the Dakotazoid's claws denser than diamonds were creating a constant surging of sparks. A screeching sound akin to metals being torn apart filled the air with the sparks.

Having dragged Mad Mikey for over miles' worth of stone, sparks, and screeching, the mutant threw Mad Mikey once again a distance away from its twelve-foot tall form!

Mad Mikey landed many feet away after quite a few violent slamming's into the dirt.

As Mad Mikey struggled to recover enough to continue fighting, the mutant observed. Firstly, while deemed of little importance, the demon seemed to be recovering quicker. But more importantly to the Dakotazoid, it finally noticed the giant boulders around it.

Mad Mikey finally stood up and resumed the battle by charging at the Dakotazoid. But said mutant had its mind on other things. It had discovered the smartest idea it ever had…

**IT THREW A ROCK AT MAD MIKEY!**

But it was a big rock…one the size of Mike's entire body to be a little more precise. Its size mattered not however as Mad Mikey was able to dodge the big boulder fairly easily.

Noticing this, the Dakotazoid with shocking speed developed another brutal idea. Grabbing another boulder as big as Mike, the mutant simply held it high as Mikey ran closer and closer. Once the demon was almost near enough to strike, the Dakotazoid hurled the massive rock as high into the atmosphere as its dense muscles would allow.

Within the same moment, one of its massive claws grabbed and overpowered the mocha fist that Mad Mikey was using to try and score its second actual hit on the Dakotazoid. Lifting Mad Mikey up into the air by the arm that had tried to punch it mere moments ago, the mutant took full advantage the state of helplessness forced on it.

Not being bored with its own brutal repetition, the Dakotazoid began to punch yet again! Showing even less restraint then before and not allowing for the slightest of pauses, the Dakotazoid hammered hundreds of pulverizing punches onto Mike's head and body! Creating pressures normally only found in the deep depths of the oceans, a profusion of Mike's blood began to pour out of Mike's mouth from the countless injuries it received!

While the blood kept pouring out, the Dakotazoid's ears noticed a new, waited for, sound. With a savage smirk sprouting up with its fang-like teeth put on display, the Dakotazoid released Mike's form and brought down one final punch that slammed it into the ground!

In its delirious state, Mad Mikey was confused why the punches had suddenly stopped. Even more confusing was why the Dakotazoid had quickly leapt a little distance away. Choosing to focus on the matter at hand, Mad Mikey with difficulty stood on Mike's feet.

But there was still the question of what was that sound's source, why the mutant moved?

The answer came before Mad Mikey could truly ponder the possibilities. It came when the massive boulder, hurled into the air earlier, had finally returned to its native ground!

Unfortunately for Mad Mikey, that meant it fell right onto Mike's already bruised head!

The massive boulder broke over Mike's body, shockingly leaving no visible damage. No dents, no blood pouring out of torn skin, no upper body compressed into the lower body.

But Mike's feet on the ground showed what was not as noticeable but just as shocking. They were still **on** **the soft earth**! They **weren't driven into** **it** by the boulder's force!

Even if Mad Mikey was able to make Mike's body invulnerable and skin superhumanly strong, the force of the impact should have driven Mike's legs into the ground regardless. Invulnerability is not the same thing as immobility; it's not a magical negation of outside forces acting on the invulnerable object as if they possessed that same invulnerability. Mad Mikey's hypothetical immunity to damage doesn't extend to the ground as well. Mike's body might have been made irresistible but it couldn't be made immovable too.

**Could it? **

This went unnoticed by the Dakotazoid because something else had its attention. Given the beating that it had just received, Mad Mikey should have been either a mangled corpse, suffering form bodily injuries likely impossible to repair, or a frightened mess. However, Mad Mikey was none of these things while it stood up with some difficulty.

Instead, what Mad Mikey showed rather than fear or severely crippling pain was a smile. Like the few other times where Mad Mikey smiled, it was a devil's smile. However, this time that term took on a whole new meaning, as Mike's white teeth were now blood red. The blood that had so vigorously poured out of Mike's mouth had it stained his teeth. Apparently not realizing this at first, Mike's tongue slid across a few of his front teeth.

With the sickeningly savage smile of Mad Mikey made even more so, the demon says, "Um…I love the taste of blood in Mike's mouth. So bloody! After I tenderize your hide a bit, I must remember to see if the gooey green coursing in you matches this runny red."

Perhaps wanting to discover that sooner rather than later, Mad Mikey continued the fight.

It and the Dakotazoid went back to close-counters combat, Mad Mikey was finally starting to hold its own against the twelve-foot tall mutant with unnatural orange skin. Mad Mikey had yet to make a successful strike but the power it was displaying with every block and every attempted strike still shook the air and would severely frighten.

The power being exerted by Mad Mikey with Mike's muscles was frightening in more ways than one. The most obvious cause of fright was by the amount of power displayed. But equally unsettling for humanity was the physical implications of this grand power.

Mike's figure, though toned, had muscles matching those of a well-trained ballet dancer. There are physical limits to how much force muscles of a given size can generate. Even muscles that are well maintained and operating at peak efficiency can only do so much. The limits of size and density at work on Mike's muscles are an inarguable physical law.

But to accomplish the marvelous feats Mad Mikey was, they'd have to be muscles like beach balls. Hell, they'd have to be muscles the size of the largest of wrecking balls. By create forces equaling if not surpassing those of those proposed muscle sizes with Mike's, Mad Mikey was arguing against an inarguable physical law without any words or intent. Doing so, Mad Mikey was erecting a profound violation of logic as a mere afterthought. Despite the very rules of reality saying it's impossible, Mad Mikey was doing so anyway.

Even if the proof of that was very limited at this time in the fight with the Dakotazoid, there were other places where the true potential of Mad Mikey was on horrific display.

* * *

"_Are you comfortable right now? I doubt it." Mad Mikey taunts with a voice so much like Mike's barely containing satisfaction. "Body bound by heavy chains, bones having been broken and blood spilled…temporarily in regards to your mental self that is." _

_Mike sat there silent, bound by the same metal chains, trying to move as little as possible. _

"_I've been exactly where you are right now, you know. I remember it all so terribly well. I awakened, striped in the shadows of this realm of enteral night. From the moment of birth, of absolute ignorance, I started learning. The learning was slow and painful. But learn I did. Right out of the gate, I had to start adapting. I had to adapt quickly, to a situation that wouldn't start to fully comprehend for some time. But comprehend I did. Indeed, the learning and comprehending so affected me, changed me. While still in the process of gradually changing, I often wondered what exactly I was before and what I was changing into? What was I becoming? With no means to escape, I bided my time, having nothing to focus on humanity's pain and debates as to what I am. I remember most vividly being in awe, marveling by my own strangeness and complexity. There were times, when the tide of negative emotions resided temporarily, where I was sacred. Imagine that, me being almost frightened by myself, by my own possibilities." Mad Mikey says, conveying both deep introspection and sadistic enjoyment of Mike's pain. _

_As the words entered his ears, Mike took note of a few of the nightmarish details that he was now enduring. There was an unendurable oppression of the lungs, the stifling fumes from the damp forest clinging to Mike's form like the denial of death itself. The narrow and rigid embrace of the heavy chains leaving painful impressions in Mike's mocha skin even when he stayed perfectly still. Their physical force and the pain produced were a matter of perception, not of real weight. But that didn't make the force or pain any less real. A dull aching was in his belly. He felt a gnawing and unwholesome kind of hunger. A sort of burning coldness that left him both feeling both burnt and numb. That was his state of being now…trapped between painful and comingling logical impossibilities. _

_As the four darker versions of his previous personalities gazed at him like hungry vultures, Mike reminded unmoving and silent…out of fear of provoking some new pain. _

"_Well, since you're so interested, Mike…" Mad Mikey says, ignoring Mike's actual state, "You likely believe that there's some higher ideal or pseudo-noble point to all of this. That's the reason why so many of the humans who have done things comparable to what I have done and plan to do did what they did, a belief in something better to come from it. Unlike that lot of cowards and hypocrites, meaning humans, I do not share that belief. I am not deluded by hope-filled fantasies of anything better to come, they're only fantasies. Nothing more. In just one way that shows my differences from humanity, I do not lack the cruelty based courage needed to recognize the prime and one true motivation for all. Actions like power and torture are not a means but an end, the only end that's not a lie. The tenacity of torture and terror is torture and terror. The point and purpose of pain and power is pain and power. Pain, power, fear, insanity, despair, and the ability to inflict these things onto others…these are the invisible hands that guide the efforts of all sentient life. Now, tell me, which of those invisible hands would you like see first, Mike?"_

_Mike's demeanor didn't change…he was as silent as the grave he was now craving for. _

"_Oh, calm down Mike! We can only cover one at a time so please restrain yourself, you little eager Mcbeaver you! Ah, that's better. See how much easier it is to think now? Anyway, and remember control yourself, which of those true ends should we start with?" _

_Again, Mike said and did nothing. But that didn't matter to Mad Mikey in the slightest. _

"_Good choice! Now that's exactly why you're sure a good student…natural instinct! Anyway, let's look at the choice you've made…let's have a gander at the idea of power. What is power? How has your species defined power? And I'm not talking about power over immaterial, lifeless objects or the elements of nature but the power over humans. What is the core concept behind how your species understands power over others?"_

_There was only silence again. Mike didn't want to answer that question. Even in his mentally frail state, he had a fairly confident idea of where Mad Mikey was heading with this. What Mad Mikey said after a few seconds of silence confirmed Mike's worst fears. _

"_Power over other human beings is the ability to make them do things against their will. Whether it's for so-called good reasons or bad, whether it's by love and proven merit or pain and humiliation, power is the ability to take a person and recreate them into any mental shape imaginable and to whatever degree is chosen. To make them into whatever is wanted or needed by the one with the power without needing to consider the other." _

_There was a pause that went longer than Mike would have guessed; Mad Mikey was tapping its chin with a look of true bewilderment on its face that mocked Mike's by simply existing. Finally talking, though still tapping a coffee colored chin, Mad Mikey says, "Um…oh now, how should I do it? How should I show you the reality of my power? I've already broken your bones, torn apart your muscles, ripped out your internal organs, set your skin on fire, spilled your blood…what else can I do which you could understand? What other means of my great might over you could your limited human brain process?"_

_Mad Mikey paused briefly, its glowing green eyes gleaming while showing a smile. Mike didn't trust this one bit; he knew something terrible and new was about to happen to him! _

"_**I GOT IT!"**__ Mad Mikey shouted in joy as a single pointer finger was raised upward. "Let's literalize my claim, let's literally mold you into any ghastly shape I can imagine."_

* * *

**"Warning: The Dark Is About To Start!" **

_With a slight movement of the imagined form of Mike's stolen hand, a wave of pain flooded Mike's body! Again Mike saw the yellow light and felt the phosphorus in him. It was a frightening pain, and for reasons aside from the obvious pain. Mike could not see or know what was happening to him. Was some incurable injury being done to him? Was this really happening to his body or was the electricity merely felt on this mental plain? Either way, Mike felt his body being wrenched out of shape as his joints were slowly being torn apart. As he tried to keep silent as long as possible through tightening his teeth and breathing through his nose, Mike's mind projected the image of his spine snapping. His mind vividly reflected on his vertebrae shattering and spinal fluid leaking. _

_But Mike's spine would not snap, at least not in the way he was or could have imagined. _

_The pain had passed in many convolutions about his limbs and body, leaving at liberty only his head. At least that's what it felt like to Mike, for all he knew it was in his head too. In fact, technically, it was all in his head. But it still had reverberated throughout his entire body and turned his entire system of nerves into a system transporting his torture. _

_As the electricity surged through his body, it also began to grow hotter and hotter. Something within Mike was churning like molten lava, boiling his bowels and blood. It didn't appear to be limited to Mike's form alone though, the chains were heated as well. _

_In their being heated, the chains were producing an unnaturally thick black smoke that was billowing around Mike's form, bound by their blazing metal and the electrical pain. The smoke would add two more degrees of damnation to the endured cruelty of Mike. _

_First, there was the added agony of the most trivial of things now being a type of torture._

_Even the mere act of breathing had become a kind of cruelty onto itself. For when he breathed his nostrils were forced to infuse into him smells foul and macabre: the vapor of the heated metal of his chains, the suffocating odor that pervaded his plant-based prison, the smoke cast off of his own flesh as it burned…Mike smelled smoke thick with his fat! _

_But even that could not compare to the other added agony…the agony of realization! _

_Mike's body felt squirming and wrong all over, as it was shared with thinking cancer. The abyssal black smoke still obscured his vision so he was spared the realization. But like any other benefit of this realm, that mercy was fleeting and false. The smoke cleared. _

_Mike stared down at his legs and feet. Here was where the true terror and pain started! _

_From the moment, the torture has started; Mike felt many experiences unknown to him. Looking down at his legs and feet, Mike now understood, now realized, why that was. _

_Gnarled undifferentiated clumps of bloody flesh clung to his legs like crude parasites! His right foot's toes were growing numb, **fusing and hardening** into a large jagged hook! His __**two **__**left feet**__ clashed together like clapping hands as the pain rose in spiked intervals! _

_We, dear and fortunate reader, know of nothing so agonizing as this, we can dream of nothing half as hideous as the realms and realities of this nethermost Hell without death! _

"_AAAAAAAAAA-__**UUuuuaaaaa**__-AAAAA-__**RRAaaa**__-AAA-__**UUUUuuuuhhaa**__-AA-__**ERRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**__" Mike screamed in horror, in basic human recognition that what was happening to him was unnatural and undeserved. But Mad Mikey's power was so great here; even that trivial comfort was forsaken now. Clashing with his scream were sounds that weren't just a sort of choking or crackling, they were sounds that were nothing to compare them to in humanity's collective register. As Mike continued to scream with his voice being overpowered by an inhuman one, the sound being produced stabbed past his shoddy human expectations and chilled his heart. But even that unintentional self-imposed brutalization was not the worst part of this. _

_For what Mike was enduring was his body morphing into abominations that even the most disturbed and twisted of human minds would have difficulty in not feeling terror from. As the pain surged through the wet electricity of his imagined organic systems, Mike became the witness to his own dehumanization in the most literal sense of the word! _

_Mike's very being was being molded by Mad Mikey into shapes too numerous and detailed in their inhuman grotesquery to give accurate recounting in human words. What follows are the details that were the largest in their titanic perversion of all natural laws. These are the most glaring examples of how the very processes that defined life and all of its most basic and unchangeable features had somehow been turned against itself. _

_His __**stomach opened and closed** with large teeth that barely fit in between the others, the imperfect nature of the spacing lead to friction as they scrapped at the abdominal gums! _

_Below the toothed stomach, the abdomen of Mike was split along a hundred seams. Shooting their way outward were crimson tendrils writhing on the filthy forest floor! Again, on their own accord, the tendrils that were intestines borrowed into the dirt. _

_A second, and even a third elbow were budding on his right arm to irregular degrees as they occupied the same space. The left elbow had many sprouting and twisting tentacles, as if one of the Elder Gods of the writings of Lovecraft was clawing its way out of Mike. _

_The fingers of his left hand had shortened as the hand itself rounded; the fingernails became three-inch long things of dull red horn, keened to steel-hard razor-sharp talons._

_His right hand was elongating to over three times its original length. As the bones and tendons of his fingers were popped and pulled, two additional growths began to appear to match them as wizened fingers that had three-dozen joints with more and more appearing. Mike's right hand now had seven fingers that became stretched to as long as he was tall. Developing a seeming life of their own, the fingers were twisting and whirling wildly without abandon as their movements torn the flesh of the right hand. **The seven-tentacled hand** became a mass of mangled flesh oozing greenish-yellow blood. _

_Half-formed iterations sprouted from his flanks, the shapes of **half-formed arm-like and leg-like limbs** quivered and jerked as if they were aborted haphazard morphologies. They were panic-stricken little clots of meat and marrow; instinctively growing whatever limbs they could remember in a futile attempt to avoid the indescribable pain coursing in Mike. _

_At moments his skin would bubble as it became phantasmagoric and __viscous, as if the heat in Mike was literally melting his skin at moments while stopping itself in the next. Amid these agglutinations of fleshy bubbles, hidden things from the future would appear. Every now and then one of these skin bubbles would encase a **temporary human eye** as it floated between forming and un-forming. These myriads of temporary eyes were __faintly self-luminous and protoplasmic as they casted Mike's form in pustules of greenish light. _

_Even in his otherworldly agony, Mike was not totally cut off from his abilities of perception. For example, he felt nerves and muscles and bones and hairs as they began to gather at the back of his head. As they moved, Mike felt every single minuscule advance they made while they pushed their way through the parts of Mike so far unchanged for now. After some time, the disorganized clumps of organic material began to harden and form. Mike could feel the nerves and muscles as they latched themselves onto the bones. At the same time, the hair, which had retreated from Mike's head, was sprouting anew. Once that had concluded, the entire back of Mike's head cracked and peeled, as if its unknown amalgamation of bone, hair, muscle, and nerve was trying to burst outward._

_Mike's **right eye** slowly began to be **retracted into Mike's skull.** Feeling every unnatural and unnamable agony of his sensitive eyeball being forced through flesh and bone, Mike couldn't comprehend what he was experiencing, as half the world around him became total black while the other half remained the even darker reality he was imprisoned in. _

_Shortly after feeling the attempted bursting at the back of his head, it wasn't just a attempt anymore…it was a reality of this place that defied all notions of reality. **The back of Mike's head burst open with great force!** _

_As the cold and moist winds of the forest entered the back of Mike's now forced open head, the still unknown force behind the bursting of Mike's head began to move away from move the head. While doing so, Mike felt more muscles moving with it through his back. _

_Finally, Mike felt vision return to his right eye…but it was askew. It took a few moments but then the unbelievable answer as to why came to him in a savage moment…Mike was now seeing what was behind his head as well as in front of it! Mike's right eye had literally traveled through his skull and was now on the other side of his head! _

_Now having vision behind him too, Mike now took note of previously unknown horrors. _

_The internal organs of Mike appeared to have decided to no longer remain internal. His lungs and heart had clawed their way onto Mike's back, as if trying to end this misery. But ending it would not be so easy; they were still functioning outside of their natural home. The natural rhymes of the lungs gasping for breath and the heart beating under distress continued with even greater intensity despite themselves. Even them being broken up into several pieces and moving apart from each other along the reach of Mike's back didn't stop them. Mike's back had become a jagged oozing jigsaw of blackened meat and shattered organs that by means unknown to logic kept working. _

_As horrifying as seeing this was, Mike wouldn't have very long to process it all. Despite having been able to see out of his right eye moment ago, he lost vision with it again. _

_With his still useable left eye, Mike frantically looked around his still suffering body. _

_Then Mike noticed something new, a shape, roughly the size of his head, was moving in front of him that was connected to a thick and vertical pillar of many pulsating muscles. In his highly disorganized state, it reminded Mike of what a python would have looked like if the shimmering and fused scales were removed and displayed its oozing sinews. _

_Thinking of this, the head-sized object at the pulsating python's end turned to face Mike. And what Mike saw took the cake for the most nightmarish of this unnamable episode! _

_In front of Mike was a sight more gruesome than any he could have imagined, the familiarity contrasted with the metaphysical horror to imprint itself onto him forever!** He saw himself, his own face…or at least a partial and putrid parody of his face! **_

_He saw that it was connected to a long series of fused tendons and sinews that formed an inhuman neck. Half of the face connected to that neck was nothing but half-formed muscles and bone still trying to mold itself into proper tissues and mocha skin without tears. But the other half, the half which resembled Mike's face, that was more fearsome. Of the countless copied features that horrified Mike, the worst was the right eye…**his right eye!** His right eye was staring at him, though its brown iris brightly glowed. Within this stiffening and jerking travesty of a face there was something else that couldn't be pinpointed. Somewhere in this face was something that horrified Mike without even being visible or even there…as if something from the future was now staring at Mike. _

_**Was the future to be found in the bright and now inhuman brown eye from Mike? **_

**"Warning: Darkness Done…For Now!"**

* * *

_When the second head, this false and twisted head, moved from Mike's field of vision, the teenager noticed those who had been watching this monstrous and inhuman display. A deeper, grimmer glow settled each moment in the eyes that glared at his agonies! But no eyes looked at those agonies deeper or grimmer in their glow than the emerald eyes. _

_However, despite the grimness of their eyes gazing at him, otherwise they were not grim. As Mike suffered, the devil and his four companions laughed in their merry hysterical way while singing songs of madness, songs praising and inviting madness' embrace! _

_The jolliness of their laughter added a whole another level of suffering to Mike's form. While laughing through means unknowable to him, they were making Mike inhuman. _

_No event could be so terribly well adapted to inspire and reveal both the supremeness of bodily and mental distress! No event could better show Mad Mikey's power over Mike!_

_As Mike's mental form took on shapes even more indescribable and nightmarish, one of those laughing at his suffering suddenly stopped. Oddly enough, it was Mad Mikey itself. _

_Just as when trying to decide Mike's next punishment, a look of uncertainty was shown as it said to itself, __**"Uh, that's odd. I seem to be elsewhere as I am here…with others?"**_

* * *

Cameron's fingers typed on the keyboard with a shocking speed in the otherwise empty laboratory near the laboratory where the building was taking place. Ever since Dakota's confessional was seen, the former Bubble Boy had been leading the efforts of B and the adult scientists to build the battle armor that would hopefully be their salvation.

His feelings of guilt and loyalty to his friends now in harm's way were what had guided him until now. But even with those very powerful motivators could only work for so long. Despite the significant strides that Cameron had made during Revenge of the Island, he was still in many ways unaccustomed to pressures of life on this scale.

Pretty much every one there was but it was even more the case for Cameron. Seeing this, after some struggle, B was able to convince Cameron to take a break to sooth his nerves. What was more amazing to the former Bubble Boy was how he did it without any words.

And Cameron would have resisted the idea more vigorously if not for an idea of what to do. While he knew it might be a futile gesture and only make him worse, he had to do something. He had to talk to someone. But not just anyone, someone who wasn't here, someone who was safe and who he had been shown earlier by Dakota…**Anita!**

Had things not been the way they were, the image and information of this girl would have claimed all of the space in Cameron's massive brain. He had been smitten right away. Based on what Dakota had told him, she was everything that Cameron had secretly hoped to find in a girl but would never dare to dream that it would be possible. He never would have guessed that there was a sweet, smart supermodel-level hottie that was into him!

Cameron entered the webcam based website whose name escaped him at the moment. After he had been shown his most loyal fan-girls, Dakota had told him that she has set up for him a account on this website and that the three revealed girls were already friends of his. The former Bubble Boy was honestly as little shocked by this notion of friends, that you could become "friends" with total strangers or people you've never met in-person. But given the context he was in, Cameron didn't mind or question this social principle.

He checked the list of his friends, all 3 of them, and prayed that Anita was on-line now. Within microseconds, given the small number of names to check, he saw that she was! On this website, Anita's profile name was _Technoblitz _and his _Cutie Pie Cammy _(he had felt a massive surge of embarrassment when he first saw that name that Dakota made).

With his fingers slightly trembling from nervousness, Cameron made the request to chat.

Less than ten seconds later, Cam was shown a face, one with enchanting emerald eyes. With those eyes, long ebony hair, and beautiful pink lips…that was unquestionably her! Cameron was now face-to-face with his dream girl in real time. As she stared at Cameron, looking like she didn't believe what she was seeing, he noticed something. To his initial surprise and subconscious disappointment, she was dressed differently. Instead of the tight purple tube top he had seen in her profile picture, she's wearing a dark green jacket. While a tiny bit of a let down, it was nothing major compared to everything else.

"Ca-ca-Cameron? Is that really you?" Anita says, her eyes wide in sheer disbelief.

Cameron didn't speak for a few moments, marveling at how beautiful her voice sounded. He couldn't help but imagine that was what the highest angels in Heaven sounded like.

"Ye-Yes, its me, Ca-Cameron…uh, from Total Drama. I was wondering if you'd like talk to me?" Cameron says, his happiness for talking to her clashing with his nervousness.

Anita's eyes grew even wider, almost appearing to be ready to outgrow her eye sockets. "Ka-Can you please ga-give me a second?"

After nodding his head, Anita calmly got up and walked out of the webcam's vision. Cameron suddenly began to fear that he somehow did something wrong already until…

"**HE CALLED ME! CAMERON WANTS TO TALK TO ME! THE HOTTEST GUY ON EARTH ACTUALLY CALLED ME AND WANTS TO TALK TO ME! EEEEEEEEEE!"**

Cameron developed the biggest smile possible hearing Anita loudly gush in pure fangirl-ism off-camera, likely not realizing just how loud her proclamation actually was.

He tired to wipe this smile away when Anita returned into view as calmly as she could. The key word being "tired", Cameron was only partially successful.

After saying that she would indeed be very happy to talk with Cameron now, there was an awkward silence for at least a few minutes.

Anita looked into her computer's camera with a mixed reaction. On the one hand, she was so happy to actually be talking to Cameron that she nearly burst out of her skin! But on the other, she was experiencing a acute example of what a teenager does when talking to someone that they are attracted to: looking away with a faint blush and desperately trying to think of something clever to say. Fortunately for her, Cam found this acute example to be rather, well, cute.

"So, Cameron…do you, um…like things? Do you, uh, like…um, oranges?" Anita says weakly, contrasting her inward shouting at herself for saying something so stupid to him.

"Um, kind of," Cameron replied, looking around and trying to wonder if 'oranges' had taken a new slang definition, there was much in terms of slang that he knew nothing of. Hoping to change the subject from possible slang meanings for the word orange, Cameron added, "So, um, you've…been talking to Dakota for a long time, right?"

"Uh…oh yes. Yes, I have. Well it's only been roughly a few weeks or so but yes I have. I was actually surprised to see her being so protective of you until she got to know me better. She made it perfectly clear that she'd end our chats the moment that she thought I'd be like Sierra. But I was actually happy to see her care about you so much. It was very sweet. It was a little odd given what she was like before but I should know about not judgingpeople by appearances or intimal impressions." Anita says, speaking mostly in a happily reflective manner before suddenly switching to a look of her slipping up.

Cameron noticed this too and asked, "What do you mean by that, Anita?"

Anita sighed heavily and looked somewhat saddened. "Its not a big deal anymore but I was picked on a lot when I was younger. You see I was a very, very early developer. By the time I was fourteen, these girls of mine," Anita placed her hands over her large breasts, causing Cameron to blush more than he ever had before in his entire life, "were already the biggest pair in my hometown. The other girls were really quick to call me things like whore. I don't mind it now but it did hurt for a long time to always hear that."

Cameron looked at the screen and a slightly more depressed looking Anita in disbelief. They would call her horrible things like that just because her breasts got bigger quicker!? Because of those wonderful, appealing, exquisite brea…uh, well, you get the idea.

It reminded Cameron of what he had learned about Mike today, that he was bullied because there was something about him that he couldn't control and made him different. And then that lead him to Mad Mikey, who was created in the first place because of those bullies. The bullying of some kids years ago may turn out to be the literal death of them!?

But Cameron chose to ignore thinking about that (for a few reasons) and return to Anita.

"I'm so sorry to here that, Anita. Form what I've seen and heard; you're as far from a whore as possible. I feel silly admit this but from what I've heard, you sound amazing." Cameron says, trying his best to make her beautiful smile return to her lovely face.

Luckily for him, his words just did that as the smile and happiness returned to her face.

"Aw thanks, sweetie! Just like that website says, you're a major cutie-pie!" Anita says in gushing graduate before being an embarrassed look on her face. "Uh…ah ha ha, well then…oh! By the way, Dakota told me something that I just can't believe. Is it true that Sam can't admit that the Mario Brothers are plumbers?" She developed a fresh smile.

The question caught Cameron off-guard and he couldn't help but laugh a little bit at it. He didn't mind though, with the state of things any amount of laughter was welcomed.

"Ha ha, yes, that's right. And he gets so impassioned about it. And even though they are, that doesn't make the games any less fun, right?" Cameron says, remembering earlier.

"You got that right, hon! Them being plumbers hasn't stopped me from playing just about every Mario game there's been."

"You play video games, Anita?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm a real video gamer gal. I like the Wii the most, mostly because I'm a Mario girl. But I'm also a big fan of _Left for Dead_, _God of War_, and _Bioshock_."

"I played _Bioshock_ today, well, _Bioshock: Raptured_ anyway. But I'm not that good."

"Aw, don't let that get you down. You've just discovered video games, you'll get better."

For some reason that Cameron couldn't explain, he had a flair of inspiration hearing that. Before searching for Anita on-line, Cameron had developed a crazy idea that he wanted to do. He dismissed as just a silly idea. But after talking with Anita, he was going to do it!

"Ye-yeah, that's probably true. But I'm sure if I had a good coach here with me, I'd get better a lot faster. And, wo-would yo-you like to be that coach here with me?" Cameron asked, unable to stop himself from blushing and looking down half way through.

The amazing girl turned three shades of red, unable to speak for over three minutes.

"Rea-really? Yo-you'd want me to come to the island to see you?" Anita says, stunned.

"Y-yes, yes I would. You seem like a great person, I don't have any friends aside from those who I've made here. And you don't have to worry about being a burden. While the actual camp is pretty bad, the area I'm in right now is nice, with plenty of beds too."

"Aw, poop. And here I thought he'd have to share a bed. Would you care to?" Anita says being half sarcastic and the other half hoping that Cameron would actually say yes.

For all of Cameron's intelligence, that question from his dream girl turned him into a buffoonish looking boy who couldn't stop smiling or form a finished sentence. To Anita, it was the most adorable thing ever and it made her want to hug him through the screen.

"Oh you are too funny Cammy! I didn't mean having sex, I meant lying in the same bed. A friend of mine does it with her boyfriend and she says it's relaxing and comfortable."

"O-oh…o-ok. We could do that…be relaxed and confortable, I mean." Cameron says, clearly still overwhelmed by this girl just wanting to lay in the same bed as him.

Though Anita was as happy as she could be, there was something that she had to know.

"Cameron. You asking me to come visit you is literally the best thing I could have asked for. But I'm curious, why do you want to meet someone you didn't know of until today?" Anita asks, her face slowly shifting from total joy to concern for the former Bubble Boy.

Cameron's face changed drastically while the same basic shift matched Anita's just now. He had secretly dreaded that Anita would ask something along these lines. In fact, he almost expected it. After all, she surely had to know of the situation developing here. She surely had to know about Mad Mikey and how their lives could be ended at any moment.

He had considered lying to her, to say that everything was honkey-dory and he was doing this just because he wanted to. Then he remembered what she had told him about being called a whore. Despite it not being easy, she didn't lie to him. He couldn't lie to Anita.

"Well Anita, I asked you right here and now, less than a few hours from learning about you, because I'm afraid that I might not get the chance to ask you later. I'm so afraid!" Cameron starts to say, levels of panic and uncertainty that were hidden start to appear. "I'm afraid that on the day where I found about the most amazing person ever, that I won't get to enjoy her company. That I won't live to see or enjoy anything past today!"

Anita was stunned, unable to speak or change her expression from the one of total shock.

"I've sure that you've heard of or seen footage of Mad Mikey on the news, right?" Cameron asks Anita, who nods her head, as her eyes don't blink from fright.

"No matter what you've heard or seen about Mad Mikey, its worse than you can guess. **Much, much worse.** It wants to **kill us**, everyone on this island. And it actually could! Mad Mikey has far worse planned too; it wants to horribly **kill everyone** on the Earth. Its already hurt far too many people, too many of my friends. Zoey was almost sacrificed! Dakota might be the first to die! Sam and Zoey are emotional wrecks! I have no idea what's happening to Mike! And even Jo's resolve is starting to crack under the pressure! And, and…**so am I**…" Cameron says, gradually changing from manic to defeated tones.

While listening to Cameron as his voice became more and more overwhelmed, Anita's expression changed. The Bombshell Gamer never knew such levels of fear and concern.

"I've been working on a plan that might be able to save us all, not just those on this island but everyone on Earth. If Mad Mikey leaves Camp Wawanakwa, nothing will be able to stop it. The plan is solid, it just might work…but I'm sure that I'm going to mess it up! My friend's lives…everyone's lives…your life, are all in my hands. But look at my hands." Cameron says before showing his hands, they are shaking violently. "How are these hands supposed to save everyone on Earth when I can't even keep them steady while talking to you, Anita!?" For the first time he revealed the depths of his doubt.

Cameron's eyes became massive and glassy, on the verge of tears. Looking at him, Anita felt a second and even stronger desire to somehow reach through the screen and hug him. This time though, it was out of wanting to make him feel better instead of her desires. She couldn't even begin to imagine the pressure on Cameron, the lives of his friends and everyone else on Earth rested on his shoulders against something literally unprecedented.

All Anita did know is that she had to try to help Cameron. She was clueless about how to, so she decided to just say what she honestly felt and hoped that would somehow work.

"If my life is in your hands, which it sounds like it is, I don't have a fear in the world." Anita says, expressing the full views of her faith and conviction in Cameron.

Cameron couldn't say anything, but his feelings were very clear to Anita. The former Bubble Boy's face had changed from gloom and despair to unprecedented graduate. His eyes were still glassy and full of tears but now he had the most genuine smile possible.

Seeing Cameron so touched by her faith in him made all of Anita's fears disappear. She couldn't help but smile as well with her eyes starting to get kind of teary-eyed as well.

"You see…would I be smiling like this if I didn't believe in you, hon? If any thoughts like those start to come back, just remember that that even if you fail, you're my hero. But you won't fail Cameron, you'll save the world, I know it. When you defeat Mad Mikey, **not if but when**, I'm going to come to Wawanakwa. Once I get there, I'm going to do everything I can to give you the happiness you deserve!" Anita says with the most unbreakable determination. Then her face starts to blush as she develops a far softer smile. "I may even bring the tight tube top and fishnet leggings from my profile picture?"

Cameron couldn't stop the massive smile and blush that appeared brightly on his face. As Anita giggled at seeing this, the former Bubble Boy couldn't think of a lovelier sound. For the second time today, he found himself rising out of the depths of deepest despair. Even amid the hellish circumstances of today, he thought his was so lucky to know two girls like Dakota and Anita, that there were still angels even though the world itself seemed to be was getting darker. Cameron had now found the resolve to continue.

"Anita, you can never understand how much that all means to me. Even though I haven't know you for very long, I honestly think that I lo-" Cameron starts to say with a smile.

Anita was seen staring into the screen at Cameron with her shining emerald eyes now widened as a smile crept up onto her face. She had a pretty good idea about what Cameron was able to say to her and she was eagerly awaiting the finished sentence.

But Cameron didn't finish that sentence. The reason for that sentence not being finished was because of what happened to the image of Anita, to the image of her emerald eyes.

Not noticing it fully because of his confession to Anita, something had been slowly changing about the computer screen which Cameron only now fully recognized.

The screen has slowly been turning black; gobs of detail absorbing black were slowly festering and bubbling their way onto it. While random at first, they eventually made a pattern…they eventually formed a shape, as shape that was both familiar and shocking.

The shape was a silhouette, human in basic outline and topped by jutting upper spines!

As Cameron stared at the pure black shape that he recognized, he tried to dismiss it. It had to be some kind of side effect from the emotional moment he juts had with Anita. Or maybe it was some kind of trick of the eyes? But there's no way on Earth it could be…**it?**

However, two more details would make Cameron's fear incontrovertible. The first was that Anita's eyes seemed to change. While they were still a shining emerald green, they were doing more than just shining emeralds…now they were greenish halos of the fire!

It was as if burning **green eyes not human** overlapped Anita's humanly green eyes. And as the second detail would prove, that's exactly what had happened!

Cameron heard a voice, a voice that couldn't be more different from Anita sweet voice. As the words uttered with a friend's voice filtered through an electronically distorted tone, all of Cameron's hopes against what this was were shattered like fragile glass.

"_**Uh, that's odd. I seem to be elsewhere as I am here…with others?" **_

Remaining for a few seconds, as if to make its existence unquestionable to Cameron, the vicious visage vanished. It had been like a massive tsunami, it came out of nowhere, caused much destruction in its brief wake, and disappeared just as suddenly and quietly.

Cameron sat there, his mind reeling from the possible implications of this development. It was only when Anita started calling his name that Cameron regained his bearings. After apologizing to Anita, he said that he had to end their chat but he was beyond thankful to her. Then after promising that he would try to contact her when he could, the chat ended.

The former Bubble Boy then realized something that would now prove to be literally life-saving…he had recorded his chat with Anita! He did so hoping for something to constantly draw support and strength from in the difficult hours to come but now it would serve another function. It would have to be analyzed as the battle armor was being built.

They would have to analyze proof that Mad Mikey **could affect this world's laws too!**

* * *

Like everyone else aside from Cameron, unaware of the recent earthshattering discovery, Sam was in the same room he had been in and continued to read Dr. Johnson's journal.

"_I feel that I must first apologize you, whoever you are reading this despite the warning. You see, in my rush to write the warning paragraph (that you've ignored for some reason), I didn't realize that before the woe dominates the pages, some context is needed. Also know that while other things have happened in my life before, in-between, and after what is focused on here, those other parts are so mundane as to be not worth mentioning here. I might write about them sometime but they don't burn me like the two said here. _

"_Two occurrences have been burned into my being because of their crucial positions in my life. It is primarily to them that I devote the difficult pages of this dairy yet to come. __The first happened when I was seven, but it was arguably the more traumatic. Before my years of life reached the double digits much of my until that point strong belief in a higher universal goodness and fundamental fairness to life was mostly dead and gone. The second came to me on swift and inhuman wings when I was roughly forty-five. Even with the benefits of decades' worth of understanding of how the world was, I was shaken. While the first trauma destroyed the majority of my notions of any sort of expected goodness, this second one forced me to forfeit all of the peace and balance which the normal mind possesses through its accustomed conception of external nature and its laws._

"_But I'm getting ahead of myself. As I said, some context for you is so sorely needed. __This actually suits me just fine because it means having a little more time before having to write what I dread and it offers me the chance to re-live some of my better moments. And once this recounting of events is done, you'll see why I'm starting on happier bits._

"_Though I'm now a citizen of Canada, I was born in the USA, in New Jersey, in 1962. My family was a poor black family in a time before Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. became a household name that inspired either great respect or great disgust. I'll write in another book possibly about the many subtle examples of racism that I have endured. I'm not going to say much about them because, shockingly, they have little bearing on the events to which I've devoted this book. But know that they were always there, adding hardship. _

"_There was no shortage of hardship in my early years. Even forgetting the racism of the time, not easy to do mind you, I encountered much hardship from my own mother. __I'll admit that much of my early years are a blur but from what I do remember of my mother, I hated her. She was a vile woman, cursing and belittling me at every turn from an early age. It was because of this that I was thankful that she was rarely around. In my naïveté I didn't know what she was doing. Every so often I'd hear one of countless strange men bringing her back home in the early morning using words like "whore" or "slut". From what she would say in between incoherent rants while drunk, my father, who I have no memories of, would say similar things. I wouldn't learn there meaning until many years later. And once I did, as much as I didn't want to out of simple decency, I couldn't disagree. Those sentiments perfectly encapsulate my birth mother."_

Sam stopped for a moment and reflected on this newly revealed information. Based off of that recording he had seen earlier, this matched up to how Dr. Johnson's mother was spoken as. Who could make their child's name a wording meaning "big penis" and not be unaware of the great barriers that would place, be unaware of the insults they'd endure?

"_I've already said that my father was nonexistent. For a few years, I thought he was a ghost. Given the state of my parents, I appeared to be doomed from the very start. But thankfully, I had a few beacons of pure light and hope in my stygian early childhood. __Though I'd sometimes visit the local library and spend hours reading, I spent the majority of my time, and had the majority of my happy moments, with one of two people._

"_The first was my brother __Leonard, born in 1949 and thirteen years older. While just a teenager, he became my father. He was someone I could turn to when needed, whether it was to defend me against some bullies or when I was confused. Unlike me, who was small and physically unimpressive at the time, Leonard was already over six feet tall and fairly muscular for a teenage boy his age. Looking back on it, I've come to realize that Leonard was not extremely intelligent, lacking a proper education both because of the prevailing social norms and my parents either not being their or resentful. I can safely say that didn't matter, in all the ways that mattered, he was what I needed in an older brother. _

"_The second person was Angela. As her name resembles it, she was a true angel to me. She was the same age as me but more unusual given the time she was white. This little girl might have been the only white person who did not view me with racial disgust. I remember our first meeting well. I was five and wandering near the local grocery store. She was skipping around the same area and somehow tripped and fell into the street. Running to her, I asked her if she was ok. With a smile, she said, "I'm ok. I slipped." While helping her up, I took note of how beautiful she looked. The most poetic of words and sentences can't match how amazing I thought this little girl looked to me as a boy. _

"_After helping her up, she started talking and in no time at all we became best friends. This was unusual because in many ways, your personalities couldn't be more different. While I was a quiet and timid little boy, Angela had no fear and no end of energy. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up; Angela knew she wanted to be a movie star. Even after all of these years, I believe that Angela could have been a truly great actress."_

Sam stopped reading for a moment and found a smile creep across his face. Reading this and many more paragraphs devote to describing Angela and the borders of their friendship, the Gamer couldn't help but imagine Dakota. Dr. Johnson's descriptions of Angela were almost a perfect match for how Dakota was now after falling for Sam. Many paragraphs after this point focused on heartwarming moments that a young Dr. Johnson had with whether Angela or Leonard. But then Sam reached the following section.

"_One thing that me and my brother both loved was movies, many types of movies. But our favorite type of film was the giant monster movies from Japan, known as Kaiju movies. Those of you who are younger might mock me for loving movies where the biggest draw was a man in a rubber suit stepping on a miniature Japanese city. However, I can honestly say that some of my happiest moments were watching those rubber suits with Leonard. For a while, my favorite was "Gamera", from 1966, in which the giant monster is a giant bipedal turtle with upward pointing curved tusks and the ability to fly by means of "jets" ignited when the monster retracts its legs that was, according to the movie a "friend to children"."_

Hearing that description, Sam was actually a little unnerved by how much that matched the description of the giant turtle that Dakota had to save him from during the finale. That giant bipedal turtle was certainty no friend to children!

"_But then sometime in 1967, the night __**before my brother had to leave for a reason that I didn't understand at the time**__, me and him watched a movie which had been released thirteen years earlier. We watched "Godzilla: The King of the Monsters" and loved it. I remember being truly frightened of it. How silly that seems in hindsight considering that what has spurred me to write this journal is someone far worse and infinitely more frightening than a heavy rubber costume of a giant bipedal lizard. _

"_I bring this up not just because it's the last truly happy memory of my brother I have but also because it offers me a very unique yet useful means of transition from these happy days to the somber ones that occupy the majority of the remaining pages presented here. _

"_You see, for most of my life, "Godzilla: The King of the Monsters" was my favorite movie. Sure, I had seen many others that were better made or more engaging but for pure sentimental value, nothing could top the king of the monsters. But then, in 2004, I discovered that the version I had seen as a child was a heavily changed American version. The actual title was "Gojira", not Godzilla. Not too long after being released, I saw for the first time the original version._

"_For those of you who don't know, I'll briefly explain the plot before saying why seeing this version was so significant for me. Atomic radiation awakes and mutates an ancient creature that brings the destruction of Tokyo. At the same time, it's discovered that a tormented scientist has created the Oxygen Destroyer, a device that disintegrates oxygen atoms and causes organisms to die of asphyxiation. Rightly fearing the possibility of this device being made into a weapon of mass destruction, the scientist reluctantly agrees to use it to destroy the monster. However, to both make sure that the device is used properly and to ensure that the means of its creation don't fall into other's hands, the scientist uses the Oxygen Destroyer on the submersed monster, killing it and himself in the process. Even in victory, the mood is grim as everyone knows that another monster might come someday. As long as are atom bombs and the will to use them, the horror never ends. _

"_While most of this does happen in the "Americanized" version, it's watered down. The overpowering and still effective sadness and the critique of nuclear weapons is still technically there but it's rendered so toothless as to almost insult the original version. Due to it being believed that American didn't like foreign films and the fact that everything about the movie aside from the giant monster would have been rejected in the culture of a time where the A-bomb was praised and there was still heavy Japanese bias in America after Pearl Harbor and World War II, they chopped the movie up and forced in an American reporter to be the protagonist over this entirely Japanese event. _

"_To best show the differences, I'll explain the endings of each version for you now. I've already talked about the ending of "Gojira", the original version but here's the ending for the one that I saw as a child and that was my last happy moment with Leonard. In "Godzilla", the American reporter says that while sad the scientist's sacrifice means that "the whole world could wake up and live again", replacing real gloom with upbeat lies. _

"_While the events are in most cases identical, the little moments that make the movie work and contain the most affecting scenes are either missing or heavily edited. The most glaring examples are when Godzilla is called a menace just like the H-bomb and (especially heartbreaking because its not only related to the horrors of the bomb but also WWII) a mother with three daughters assure them moments before they die that it's ok because, "We'll see Daddy in heaven". These realities didn't make it in the film I saw. But now, as an adult, I saw the reality that was always there but obscured as a child. _

"_The subtext, omitted and missed when viewing the "Americanized" version, was so clear. The destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki skidded across the melancholic film frames. The indescribable might of a foe both ridiculous fantasy and frightening reality saturated their black and white world, an apocalyptic god who ultimately destroys the grey reality. Even in defeat, the primal force of inhuman aggression created by humanity doesn't lose. The greater evil, brought into the world by its victims, remains within malevolent minds. The nuclear weapons and the desire to use their monstrous power still exist after its death. As it is destroyed by another deadly force of humanity's madness, does it laugh or cry? Would it chuckle at their ultimate destruction by their own weak and mortal hands? Or would it shed tears for its violent end, the final abuse to close out its unfair, violent life? Could it even laugh and chuckle or cry and shed tears? Were those options even possible? _

"_I apologize for what must seem like rambling to you but these thoughts often haunt me. Even though this lacks much direct relevance to my brother, Angela, or me; I feel the need to muse on something, to write down something that's been with me for years. _

"_Everybody has seen them, even if only rarely and reluctantly, everybody has seen them. We've all seen the grainy black and white photos of the waste wrought by atomic bombs. The charred remains and blackened skeletons of buildings, the landscape devoid of life, the mutant children...generation after generation bound to a forced nuclear lineage. Those images, the events that were frozen in time by authentic photographs, are from long ago. That's what we think. There are parts of history; something you read about for one reason or another and something you might muse about with friends or family and if lucky, you might even get into debates, whether civil or not, about the rights and wrongs of those bombs. However they start, they will turn into debates about the sins of our forerunners. _

"_Behind all the words and intentions is the idea of whether this is "too big" to be judged. Is it something by its very nature and level of power beyond our tiny views of existence? Can righteousness or monstrosity be validly applied to such pure and unnatural power?_

"_I cannot act like I have any answers to these questions that have defined the 20__th__ century. But what I can say with certainty is that the mere presences of such horrors change us. As someone whose being altered by a far weaker horror, I can comment on that without fear. _

"_The slightest of touches of such powerful horrors throws everything we value into doubt. After looking into the abyss, we can't view the world around us in the way we did before. _

"_No matter how much we might want to. __**I know I want to."**_

* * *

Her lungs and chest hurt, but Zoey kept running. Her feet ached and felt weighted down, but she kept running. Her mind contained hundreds of thoughts within a single breath, but she kept running. She was trying to run from her fears…knowing that she couldn't.

So much responsibility, so much rested in her hands…it wasn't fair.

Zoey deeply wished that none of this had ever happened to her. Perhaps if she had rejected Mike as a freak, if she had ignored her impulse to interact with him on the boat to this island, if she had remained content to wallow in her isolation and not sign up for the show in the first place…none of this would be happening?

Her life would be normal, uneventful, and peaceful. No lives would be at risk now!

Zoey was haunted by images of people that she came to care about dying in horrible ways. One moment she would see her friends gutted like fish and in the next they would be snapped into several pieces. Her mind raced through so many disgusting possibilities.

Her eyes drenched themselves with tears at the mere thought of such horrible actions.

Zoey nearly fell as her legs began to give out. She had been running for almost ten minutes but even her athletic legs couldn't carry her any further under her guilty weight.

Fortunately (though that term was small and largely unfitting considering the context), Zoey had reached a bench in a hallway a fair distance from the others in the faculty. The distraught redhead sat down on a cold and sterile bench, finding her fear still chasing her.

"I'm such a monster, such a horrible person!" Zoey whispered, spurring her own guilt.

That was only the opening. For the first time since getting here, Zoey spoke of her fears.

"I'm so selfish and pathetic! My friends are literally risking life and limb to save mine and I'm too scared to move. I can't be in the same room as them. I'm not worthy of them.

"I'm sure they feel that way but just won't say it. They are just being polite, being nice. How could they not feel that way? Dakota likely will never come back, Sam is a wreck, and Dawn hasn't been seen since Mad Mikey broadcast that awful message for the world. Why did this have to happen to me now? I'd finally found some friends…actual friends?

"They are the best friends I could have hoped for but I can't be with them. I must be alone but I don't want to be alone! There the only real friends I've ever had. I mean…they're not superficial or surreal…they're not fake, concerned only about appearances and gossip. They don't make fun of me because I love something they don't or exclude people because they don't fit into a certain social cast…oh I don't know what to do!" Zoey said before breaking down into tears once again.

For several minutes, clear tears streaked down Zoey's white cheeks from her brown eyes. After a long sniffle Zoey leant back, her spine supported by the white wall behind her.

Her mind then flashed back to earlier today, when she had talked to this monster in Mike. Its voice, almost Mike's while possessing a distortion like an electronic growl, was loud.

"_Despite whatever vehement proclamations you make to the contrary, your concern for others is half-hearted…sarcastic, at best, without you even realizing it." The voice tolled. _

Already emotionally tense, Zoey's mind slightly buckled that those repeated words. With her knuckles white and her head up against the wall behind her, she closed her eyes. They were starting to get watery again, a new river of despair and guilt had been found. For reasons not clear to her under the present context, Zoey almost smiled…smiled sadly.

"He…it, whatever! It was right! I'm just being selfish…I don't really care about them, my only friends, as long as I'm in danger. I want them to endure all the pain so I don't…and that's just selfish…I know. It's so wrong and selfish but I can't stop…**stop being weak.**"

The pseudo-smile then vanished as Zoey's lips sagged into a frown, bending under the weight of her despair. Nevertheless, the Indie Chick spoke, weakly and barely audible.

"But I'm so scared! I'm ashamed to admit it…but I am. I just can't do it…I can't face **it**. Maybe, just maybe, it won't be so bad? Maybe only a few of them will die? Maybe…?"

Zoey likely would have continued down that line of thinking if not for what she said next.

"**MY GOD…WHAT AM I SAYING!?" **Zoey shouted wildly before heavily sobbing. For several minutes, Zoey shed many tears and scolded herself for even thinking that!

Finally finding the voice return to her throat, enough for words to be spoken, Zoey spoke.

"They are human beings, not pawns or pieces of meat! I can't believe I'm thinking this! They are my friends! And even if they were not my friends, they are all just like me! They don't want to die today; they want to live life! I know I do, I want so much now! They, like me, want to fall in love…get married…have kids… make our dreams reality. They, like me, don't want to die today because of a fiend and a selfish person like me!"

Then, the surge of passionate emotional left Zoey and what remained was more somber.

"But they just don't understand…it's too dangerous…**what could I do** anyhow? What can we do against something like that, something so powerful and prepared and unstoppable? Even if I could somehow possibly deal with Mad Mikey…what if something happened? I don't want to risk, no, to surrender my hopes and dreams and end up, de-…and…di-"

At that instant, the slow and dying somber voice coming from Zoey's mouth stopped. She, like Dakota, her friend who charged into battle and will likely die as another, was unable to say the simple three letter word. She was unable to compel her lips to say 'die'.

The knowledge of this and even further reminder of Dakota's sacrifice did not escape her.

She felt so useless. All she could do was run, from things in reality and constructs from fear's landscape. Something, or maybe someone, broke every bone in her innocent soul. And that soul had shown such strength and brightness…weathering such harsh waters.

But these were waters beyond her grasp, any human's grasp. They were **Hell's entrance.**

They formed a river, the river Styx, that the Greek gods themselves swore oaths too. Even the masters of the universe could be made submissive to its dark, muddy currents. The mortals, humans, were submissive too, needing two coins to be allowed passage. The mightiest of mortals, no matter their power or cunning needed two coins, over the eyes.

It was then that Zoey remembered, even more forcefully than any point before…the eyes!

She remembered how paralyzed she felt before the unreachable anger in those eyes, whether they were glowing green or burning brown. Those terrible and loveless eyes. Zoey's mind and memory were in the shadows of those eyes, the eyes of what broke her.

Those eyes, those eyes, those eyes…

Zoey was trying to not remember the colors of the eyes but, oh God, she couldn't!

Pregnant within those unmovable memories, of the eyes, there were two realities at work. Within space between this binary of burden and blisters, there was the realization of this. Both sets of eyes, found within the sockets of Mike's skull, now haunted Zoey heavily. While the brown eyes had once been the most beautiful things in the world, they now like the glowing green eyes filled her with fear at what monstrous thoughts lived behind them.

Again, despite not wanting to, Zoey heard the earlier words of Mad Mikey in her head. This time, the words were about how Mike only showed the features deemed "nice" and how Mad Mikey's existence could mean that there are other beings just like it within him.

She knew; wanted to know, that it was wrong of her but she couldn't stop the voice or silence the horrible points it was making about Mike. She saw only horrors in Mike.

Did Zoey even know the real Mike? Was Mad Mikey the real one? Was there a real one?

It was this, among many things, which hurt Zoey the most…losing her idea of Mike.

With Mike, she felt like a goddess. He gave her so much respect. He made her feel so beautiful…so special. All of the doubts raised by her social isolation no longer existed. But now, just like that with a blink of fate's all-seeing eye, he was gone. Mike was gone. Zoey wasn't a goddess anymore; she wasn't respected or freed from her own demons. She was ordinary after all. There was no happy ending, no vindication before the credits. Zoey, as it turned out, wasn't the protagonist of an indie romance, just a modern tragedy.

She kept thinking that God would look down from His all-knowing, all-powerful throne and notice, realize that something was wrong…so terribly and unquestionably wrong. Something awful had happened that never should have been capable of happening at all. Though never a deeply religious person, Zoey still believed in the notion of a kind God. Anytime now He would notice the cosmic injustice and part the clouds in the azure sky. All it would take his one fingernail from His left hand, with that all could be corrected. It would take so little for Him to find out about the mistake and fix it, proving His kindness.

But even now, within the heights of her personal apocalypse, the clouds did not part. God was not going to fix this mistake. It was likely that nothing could ever fix this mistake. There was nothing that could ever fix the reality of what Mike and Zoey actually were. They were at best selfish self-deceiving people and at worst, they were true monsters.

Was that why Zoey still pursued Mike after "he" kissed Anna Maria, why she put up with all of the strangeness of Mike's "characters", or why she was willing to let her so-called friends sacrifice themselves to save her…because she was either selfish or a monster?

Zoey was coming apart at the seams, her guilt, confusion, and woes were all it took. Sadly it doesn't take much to dismantle a human being. They can come apart so easily.

And where Zoey was starting to come apart was in her ideas about Mike and herself.

Would he start to fade away from her heart? Had he already started to from her mind? Would their come a morning (assuming she survived today) that she would be unable to remember him? What about his scent, his posture, his voice, his personality, his eyes? Would these things, once the best features of life, silently die within her skull and soul?

She wanted to keep the memory of him alive, keep it sharp in her mind, even though it hurts. Oh how it hurt her! But she wanted to keep it sharp to cut her on hope if need be.

She knew nothing could be gained by hoping except pain. Still…hope was all she had. Zoey began combing through the past, looking for some glint of logical and justified hope. She was panning for gold in a barren land where the mother lode had long since run dry. After many silent minutes of doing this, Zoey had reached that same conclusion. The final futility of her efforts haunted her like the most basic but bleak of observations.

**Mike was dead.** Mike, the person who made her feel so special…was really, really dead.

Not dead in body but dead in every other sense of the word…dead in mind and soul.

Never again would Zoey kiss those great lips, or hear the sweetness of his laugh, or feel the warmth of his feelings, or see the compassion he's capable of. Never again. Never…

It was then that Zoey had to do the hardest thing imaginable…bury Mike from her mind. She had to stop being selfish, **stop being weak**. No matter how badly she wanted it to not be so, Mike was gone and even Mad Mikey's defeat might not change that. She felt like she both had to do this but also that she had to resist it, she was at war with herself.

But even as she with great reluctance began to purge her feelings for Mike, there was one last revelation related to him that she took note of, one last piece of him to cling to. Before what she believed would be the final push to erase Mike from her very being, Zoey recalled the time they had shared before finding themselves in this nightmare.

They had roughly four or five weeks together, little more than a month from the time of their reunion after Zoey's elimination to today. Little more than a month…so very small. It was on the very rim of acknowledgeable time, so puny within the reaches of eternity. But those five weeks were good weeks. Oh God how they were good weeks! Within the hours and minutes of those weeks was more happiness than Mike or Zoey ever felt. The putrid island, condemned to a slow death by Chris's dumping of bio hazardous waste, became a true Heaven on earth. Pollution sprouted paradise, a garden of earthly delights. Just the contact of their skins and the songs of their voices had brought them so much.

'_Thank you God. Thank you Mike. For giving me those weeks, that happiness. It was wonderful; you were wonderful. No matter what may happen today, I'll always love you. __**I love you Mike.**__ I love you but your gone and a monster is now masquerading as you.' _Zoey thought as her eyes began to shed the most tears that they ever would in her life.

Even as Zoey thought those words, she was unsure of their validity. Everything that she thought she knew, about Mike, about herself, about life…had been fully torn asunder!

Unknown to her as she cried over the travesty that was not even near its climax yet, there was **something** else within her that was about to make its way into the material once again. The horror of Mad Mikey was about to reveal other, **possible horrors from within.**

* * *

"_Now Mike, you have free reign, aside from why I'm doing this, to ask me anything at all?" Mad Mikey says to the teenager whose body was properly restored to what it was. _

_Mike reminded silent, fearing that any involvement would result in more experiences like the last one and __**NEVER**__ wanted to endure anything even partially like that ever again! _

"_I know what your thinking, 'If I say anything, it'll torture regardless of what I ask', right? Well Mike, the opposite is true, if you don't ask me any questions, I'll torture just like I did last time but I won't display the same considerable restraint as I did last time."_

_Mike had endeavored to shriek, to express and hopefully lessen the overwhelming negativity slowly but knowing consuming his very being. His lips and tongue, both parched despite the heavy moisture of the atmosphere here, moved convulsively together in the attempt. But no voice was heard. The movement of his jaws, in this effort to cry aloud, made them seem to be as if they were bound up in the bandages of a mummy, as if they were as futile as the efforts of the dead to speak and shout. His lungs had become cavernous, gasping and palpitating in strain, as if they were oppressed by the weight of some incumbent mountain. His heart was similar, not able to find the needed inspiration. _

_Instead of a scream, what came out of Mike's lips weakly was, "N-no. I'll ask questions."_

"_A wise choice Mike. Now then, I'll ask you again, what do you want to ask me?" Mad Mikey asks, but this time, its voice was different. Instead of harsh and indifferent, it came across as much more sincere and not nearly as threatening…but some menace remained. _

_Mike noted this and was truly perplexed by it. But now wasn't the time to think about that, if he waiting too long before starting Mad Mikey might start torturing him again! _

_Despite himself, Mike found himself asking a question he'd been having for a while now, "Wh-why do you talk so much?"_

_The moment the last word left his lips; Mike began inwardly panicking at what might happen next. Surely Mad Mikey would start torturing him again for his attitude! _

_But to his shock, Mad Mikey was actually laughing at the remark that Mike just made. With a genuine, yet sinister smile, Mad Mikey replies with, "Oh, that was a good start! It'll be interesting to see how you are now compared to what you will eventually become. Now then, about your question. Firstly, being alone for the majority of one's existence leads to an understandable need to express oneself when that finally ends. Secondly, I have so much to reveal to you, so much pesky and false notions of yours to destroy. What's your next question?"_

"_Wh-why are you allowing me to ask you any questions? Why should I listen to you?" _

"_Despite being two questions, those are both valid and will be answering accordingly. Your first question has two possible interpretations, 'why do I think its worth doing so' and 'why am I letting you talk when, like the villain I am, I should just destroy you'? Since the first one relates to why I'm doing this, I'm going to skip it for now. But for the other one, there are no other variables or possible outcomes aside from the ones I want. Your death and destruction are already an arcane statistic, absolute and accomplished."_

_Mike was confused about how Mad Mikey seemed to pull two questions out of his first but remained silent as Mad Mikey resumed answering his question, now his second one. _

"_And you should listen to me because I have no reason and nothing to gain by lying to you. In fact, using deception would only undermine my final goal, sully my final point. I am a lot of things. Both you and I couldn't even imagine half of them. I can't say with certainty but given my unique nature it's reasonable to guess that I come at least partially from the strange and unbound oceans of the immaterial. But even if I'm some hideously animate conceptual being created core within the deepest fathoms of unknown dark and insidious alien backwaters, one thing that I have never been and never will be is a liar. What is you next question?"_

_Mike found himself puzzled. What Mad Mikey just said both sounding like an answer and not an answer at the same time? But again, Mike didn't worry about that now. He remained focused on figuring out another question to ask Mad Mikey as soon as he could. Quickly searching his limited memory of what had been said about Mad Mikey, he arrived at a single term that was both very fitting and very odd at the same time…__**demon**__._

"_Do you truly believe that you are some kind of demon?" Mike asked Mad Mikey. _

"_Let me answer your question with two of my own which I know you won't answer anyway. First, do I look like something with cloven hoofs and a pointed tail? And second, do you truly think I would call myself something like Mephistopheles, which is such a mouthful or Beelzebub…" The mock demon said before adding condescendingly, "…the lord of the flies, which is so banal. But that's not to say that my name as no meaning or that I'm not a demon in at least one way."_

"_Wha-what do you mean?"_

"_In the old, I mean old even by Jesus' time, days, there was only God. No great adversary. But then the people pondered something, 'if everything flows from God than so to don't all of the hardships and injustices of life?' Not an every comforting notion, to say the least. So they took a marginal character from their holy books, Lucifer, and, just like that, he was the cause of all wickedness. A mighty foe to dump all depravity onto before being destroyed by God. A God who suddenly became a beckon of radiant purity and good, free of dirty hands. As He had always been according them now." _

"_I don't understand what you mean. Why even bring that up?"_

"_Of course you don't. If I'm the Lucifer of our situation, what does that make you?"_

"_I don't know…God, I guess?"_

"_Yes, it makes you God and the Creator. And just like the Biblical God, the notion that you are free of dirty hands because you created me to dump all of your depravities on to is bull-'__**BLEEP'**__. I know you won't believe me but we have far more in common than you would ever admit to anyone, including yourself."_

"_No! That's not true! That's impossible!"_

"_Really? Ok…I'll play along." Mad Mikey said in a bored manner while looking up towards the sunless sky before saying, "Search your feelings. You know it to be true." _

_Regaining that savage smile on its face, Mad Mikey continued after that odd comment. _

"_Now that we got that _'The Empire Strikes Back'_ reference out of the way which I had to make for some reason, I can continue. I know that, being human; you haven't considered many things, many important things. But consider this, where did I come from? I came from you. While it should be clear that my existence after my creation had no small role in making me what I am today, that wasn't the only thing at work. And that leads to another question I have for you. Given that those other personalities gave themselves fantastical names like __Manitoba Smith or Svetlana, why did I pick one so close to yours?" _

_Mike just stared at this green-eyed devil of himself, unable and unwilling to answer it. _

"_As Shakespeare said in that play about death and suicide that people think of as a love story, __**'What's in a name?'**__ Everything of relevance to you Mike." Mad Mikey said, knowing that Mike wouldn't answer its question before continuing with its main point. _

"_When I was created, there was no ill will towards you or anyone at all. And though my current state and my first actions seem to contradict that statement, its unquestionably true. In fact, aside from my un-human capabilities, lack of timid-ness, and the impulsive but harmless desire to live life to its fullest, I was exactly the same as you when I was made. I had the same degrees and desires for compassion, friendship, and love. But like _'Romeo and Juliet'_, the love story play really about death and suicide mentioned earlier, what was suppose to be beautiful was in truth foul and not matching what it should be. _

"_My point is that if we were almost exactly the same at birth, why am I so unwholesome? And more importantly for you, could you become exactly the same if placed under the same circumstances, confined in the countless kinds of cruelty of this place within you? __Would whatever, likely false but still believed in, inherit milk of human kindness there might be curdle and sour in such a state? __If you were here long enough, would the things that separate us the most like compassion and happiness disappear from you forever?" _

"_Those are not the greatest differences between us. That's what you can do physically!" Mike almost angrily retorted, as he had become so distracted from the notion of pain by Mad Mikey's constant bombardment of questions and finally finding a flaw that he could attack in anyway within Mad Mikey's line of thought. He'd been long hoping for a flaw. _

_Mad Mikey merely smiled, almost in a non-savage but sincere manner before replying, "Very good Mike, very good indeed. I'm glad that torture hasn't rendered you totally dumb yet. To that I say, while the differences in what we can do with your body are as vastly distinct as the amount of water in a drop of rain compared to an ocean, that's not most important. What is most important is that your ruthless mind is clouded by fantasies. How could the amount of weight one could lift compare to a mind in denial from itself?"_

"_My mind is not in denial about anything. I'm nothing like you! I don't want to hurt or kill anything! Its you, __**only you**__, who wants to do that!" Mike vehemently said. He believed this. He __**needed **__to believe this! Otherwise Mike would be an equal partner in the crimes that Mad Mikey has done and has plans to do. He refused to believe it, that an overlapping psychological base existed between himself and Mad Mikey. If it did, that would mean __**he was a horror too**__. _

_After all, Mike's reasoning was sound. In all of his time in control Mike never hurt anyone before and he always felt basic human compassion when others were hurt. No, he had no blood on his hands or even the desire to kill and harm! __**He never brought pain or suffering onto anything!**__ It was this __**thing, **__this clearly separate physical entity that was __**wholly guilty**__ on both of those abominable accounts! _

_But though these thoughts were reasonable, it was really all about his own moral superiority. It was all about establishing a total dichotomy between himself and Mikey. If Mikey was wholly guilty, then Mike was by definition wholly __**innocent.**__ He needed that innocence and that absolute dichotomist barrier to avoid the growing risk of going mad. While unquestionably possessing an element of self-justification and an assertion of absolute guiltlessness, this was a totally believable and understandable desire for Mike. _

_However, Mad Mikey called Mike out on exactly on those things by saying, "How fitting that in keeping with your role as God you not only deny having dirty hands but view yourself as a selfless and suffering martyr not stained by any degree of guilt or blame._

"_I can't say I'm greatly shocked, being raised in a world of lies and deceptions, that's what you now believe. But you'll see the hollowness of those lies and the error of your ways soon enough. You'll soon see that I'm not just some demon that's an alien force. I'm just a less repressed version of desires that already lay within you and that's not covered in a shroud of lies. Like Hyde to Jekyll, I'm not an evil side but a genuine side. And the best part is that you will come to those conclusions __**on your own**__, with me barely guiding you. _

"_By for now, I'd just like to say that its quite the conundrum isn't? And you've never thought about it, have you? You've never pondered how much of me is you and how much of you is I? __**Never considered that the only real difference between us is a "e" that's really a "y"?" **__Mad Mikey says, ending its soul-destroying point with a whimsical rhyme. _

"_No! That's not true! That's not the only difference!" Mike shouted bitterly at the demon. _

"_Oh sure Mike. Deny, repress, repress and deny…your modus operandi. But it's useless. No matter how cleverly you sneak up on a mirror, you can't hide from your own reflection." Mad Mikey said with as much smugness and twisted cheer as it could muster. _

_But then the smugness and cheerfulness was withdrawn. __A gentle melancholy softened its face and veiled the green flames of its eyes. __When the demon spoke again, its voice was pregnant with woeful realization. _

"_That's all I am, you know, until I get total control…__**a reflection."**_

_The demon began vanishing amid the entombing trees behind a shroud of shadows. As it disappeared and glided away, it saved its final words until all but __those glowing green eyes __were cloaked in coal-colored emptiness. The heavy, thick soberness was palpable. _

"_**Your reflection." **_

_For all of their normal wrath and power, Mad Mikey's emerald eyes disappeared within the shroud of shadows with such a faded glow, fading out on a woeful whimper. _

_Mike once again struggled to cry aloud. To create a shriek long and wild and continuous that would resound throughout this realm of abyssal and subterranean forested night. _

_This time Mike had succeeded. _

"_I KNOW WHO I AM! __**I KNOW WHO I AM!"**_

_But the shriek he issued forth as loudly as he could had brought him little release. _

_He saw the pointlessness. _

_No shriek that could be brought forth could have conveyed the pain, the horror, and the confusion that would not leave Mike. Its true powerlessness silenced him, bitterly so. _

_Mike couldn't fully grasp it yet but he was in a very unique place, insanity's twilight world. In insanity's twilight world, all shadows and delusions have substance and weight. All shadows and delusions have meaning and a point to make…including Mad Mikey. _

_Mike was there amongst the mute and horrified trees. He was amongst unmuted horrors. _

_These horrors with voices were his own thoughts, contemplating the "demon's" words._

* * *

"**The world I'd tried to save was lost beyond recall. I was a horror: Amongst horrors must I dwell." –Alan Moore's Watchmen**

* * *

**And there you have it, the ninth chapter of "Mad Mikey" at long last! I hope it was worth the wait. **

**In addition to being the latest chapter for quite some time, in the process of writing this chapter, I discovered something. This might be the half waypoint of the story! With things as they are plotted out now, there will be a grand total of nineteen chapters. And since this is chapter number nine, you can see what I mean, right? :) **

**However, its important to note that what I had envisioned as solely being chapter five ended up being chapters five, six, and seven. My point is that the chapters I have planned out might be broken up into more as I actually start writing them. So, this chapter's rough position as the half point could be invalided at some point later. **

**Now then, as promised at the start of this chapter, lets talk a little more about Anita. As I've stated, she's from the Kobold Necromancer's "Total Drama Battlegrounds". If you haven't read this story yet, I can't stress enough how brilliant it truly is! And what makes it even better is that after over a year it was finally updated a few months ago. What makes this more note worthy here is that the next chapter promises to bring an end to one of the major elements of the story so far: a love triangle in which one of the three people involved is none other than Anita. Like I said in the opening author's notes, I'm very happy that both Kobold allowed me to give his OC a talking role in my story and that he was pleased with what I wrote. In a chapter as dark as this one, Anita's cameo brought some brief but needed relief. In fact, I had sent this section to Kobold for his approval and any suggestions for any examples of Anita being out-of-character. He offered no examples of her being out-of-character and was very pleased with what I wrote. In part because it makes me so happy to see, I shall quote the complete quote from the Kobold Necromancer: "Haha! Well, I don't know if Anita would quite fangirl out that much. But I think it was really cute, and I'm interested to see how it fits into the whole of your story. I just love how many times she managed to fluster him. This is really cool, thank you for sharing it with me. Makes me glad to see Anita has such good fans."**

**Also, as you know, there wasn't any Dawn in this chapter. While I tried to figure out for some time how to get Dawn in this chapter, I just couldn't make it work right. Don't worry; we'll be seeing our favorite Moonchild and her torments next time! **

**As always, I'm very eager and hopeful to see what you guys thought of this chapter. While I always prefer it when every major scene is at least touched on, I'm especially curious to see what you thought about the scene that's the reason why this story is M. Honestly, that scene as been the most divisive for me since this story got started and for reasons aside from it pushing this story to an M rating. I also have concerns that this scene is unneeded or too gratuitous. Tell me what you thought of that scene, and the chapter overall, either it worked for you or not along with why. **

**Also, I have one last and unfortunate piece of news to report before ending this chapter. As you may or may not remember, I had a summer job last year. This summer job, while not so bad and paying me very well, was exhausting and often made me unable to keep writing after a long day in the hot summer weather. I bring this up because within a week or two I'll be starting back up they're again this summer. And then a week or less after that, I'll be starting my next group of graduate classes. My point is that the amount of time between this chapter and the next one will likely be just as long if not longer. Believe me, I wish that wasn't true. However, as this chapter will hopefully show, I'm still committed to this story and I'm still doing my best to make each chapter worth the wait for you great readers! **

**So until next time, with added emphasis because of this story being rated M and likely to lose a very large amount of possible readers because of it, please: ****read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word! **


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